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A BUNDLE OF LIFE 


THE “ UNKNOWN^^ LIBRARY 


I 


THE “ UNKSOWN ” LIBRARY. 

I. MLLE. IXE. By Lanoe Falconer. 
■j. STORY OF ELEANOR LAM- 
BERT. By Magdalen Brooke. 

3. MYSTERY OF THE CAMPAGNA 

4. THE FRIEND OF DEATH. 

5. PHILIPPA. By Ella. 

6. THE HOTEL D’ANGLETERRE. 

By Lanoe Falconer. 

7. AMARYLLIS. 

8. SOME EMOTIONS AND A 

MORAL. By John Oliver Hobbes. 

9. EUROPEAN RELATIONS. By 

Talmage Dalin. 

10. JOHN SHERMAN, and DHOYA. 

11. THROUGH THE RED-LITTEN 

WINDOWS. 

12. BACK FROM THE DEAD.' By 

Saqui Smith. 

13. IN TENT AND BUNGALOW. 

14. THE SINNER’S COMEDY. By 

John Oliver Hobbes. 

15. THE WEE WIDOW’S CRUISE. 

16. A NEW ENGLAND CACTUS. 

By Frank Pope Humphrey. 

17. GREEN TEA. 

18. A SPLENDID COUSIN. 

19. GENTLEMAN UPCOTT’S 

DAUGHTER. By Tom Cobbleigh. 

20. AT THE T HRESHOLD. By 

Laura Dearborn. 

21. HER HEART WAS TRUE. By 

An Idle Exile. 

22. THE LAST KING OF YEWLE. 

By P. L. McDermott. 

23. A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 

By John Oliver Hobbes. 

24. THE PALIMPSEST. By Gilbert 

Augustin Thierry. 

25. SQUIRE HELLMAN, and Other 

Stories. By Juhani Aho. 

26. A FATHER OF SIX. 

27. THE TWO COUNTESSES. By 

Marie E. Von Eschenbach. 

28. GOD’S WILL. By Ilse Frapan. 

29. HER PROVINCIAL COUSIN. 

By Edith Elmer Wood. 

30. MY TWO WIVES. By One of 

Their Husbands. 

31. YOUNG SAM AND SABINA. 

By Tom Cobbleigh. 

32. CHAPERONED. 

33. WANTED, A COPYIST. By W. 

H. Brearley. 

34. A BUNDLE OF LIFE. By John 

Oliver Hobbes. 


THE **UNHJVOPVJV” LIBRARY 




A BUNDLE OF LIFE 


BY 


JOHN OLIVER HOBBES 

AUTHOR OF “the SINNER’s COMEDY,” “sOME 
EMOTIONS AND A MORAL,” “a STUDY IN 


^ TEMPTATIONS,” ETC., ETC. 







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V - T, 




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NEW YORK 

THE CASSELL PUBLISHING CO. 

31 East 17TH St. (Union Square) 


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COPYRIGHT, 1893, BY 
J. SELWIN TAIT AND SONS. 


Copyright, 1894, by 

THE CASSELL PUBLISHING CO. 


A ll rights reserved* 


THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS, 
RAHWAY, N. J. 



PROLOGUE. 

1 . 

IR SIDNEY WARCOP was 
a gentleman who had been 
born with many good and per- 
fect gifts, but he had pawned 
them to his Adversary for a few 
casks of brandy and a little soda. 
In his early manhood he had been 
considered a handsome, dashing 
young buck of the old school, a 
three-bottle Tiero, a sad dog, an 
irresistible rake — a 'good-hearted 
devil. Now he was reformed, how- 
ever, and reformation had meant in 

I 



2 


PROLOGUE. 


his case, as in that of many, the 
substitution of many disagreeable 
virtues for a few atoning sins. Once 
over-generous, he was now frugal ; 
once fearless, he was now discreet ; 
once too loving, he was now 
indifferent ; once a zealot, he was 
now unprejudiced ; once candid, he 
was now abyssmal — in a phrase, he 
was the embodiment of gentlemanly 
correctness, well-bred honor, and 
polite religion. 

At the age of six and twenty he 
had surprised society in two ways : 
first, by running away with his 
enemy's wife ; and secondly, by 
marrying the lady on the death, 
some months later, of her distracted 
husband. Eighteen years had now 
passed and, by living in close retire- 
ment, Lady Warcop was become a 
much-sought-after person. She had 
suddenly inherited, too, a consider- 
able fortune, and as views on mar- 


PROLOGUE. 


3 


riage are only immoral (as it would 
seem) when one cannot afford to 
pay for them, it was not so much 
a question whether her ladyship 
would be received, but whether she 
would receive. And she gave such 
delicious dinners ! The early trans- 
gression of Sir Sidney and his wife 
was forgotten, and their daughter 
(whose age was a subject delicately 
avoided by the feeling and discreet 
world),^was receiving her education 
in a convent abroad. It is possible 
that she would have remained there 
always and ended her life as a nun, 
but for the great interest most un- 
expectedly shown in her welfare 
by a rich and childless aunt — her 
mother’s own sister — Mrs. Con- 
stance Charlotte Portcullis. 

The heart of Mrs. Portcullis was,, 
as it were, a moral scent-sachet, 
which she refilled with the fashion- 
able perfume of each season, scatter- 


4 


PROLOGUE. 


ing the musk of the old year to 
make room for the myrrh of the 
new. This custom — which is com- 
monly called Toleration — won for 
her numberless acquaintances of 
every rank and opinion, among 
whom it would it have been hard 
to decide, which expressed his or 
her contempt for the lady's uncer- 
tain principles, in the most affec- 
tionate manner. Mrs. Portcullis 
had, nevertheless, one fixed and 
unalterable idea, and that had ref- 
erence to Lady Warcop. She held 
that her appalling conduct had 
brought perpetual disgrace on that 
distinguished family the Tracy Tot- 
tenhams, of which she and her 
ladyship were members. Years 
passed and the sisters never met. 
Mrs. Portcullis, of Belgrave Square, 
and Lady Warcop, of Curzon Street, 
were a new heaven and a new earth 
asunder. 


PROLOGUE. 


5 


They were brought together at 
last in a street accident. Mrs. 
Portcullis was thrown out of her 
victoria and driven home half in- 
sensible in Lady Warcop's broug- 
ham, which, by a dispensation of 
Providence or the interference of 
Satan, happened to be passing at 
the time of the catastrophe. On 
recovery from the shock Charlotte 
felt constrained to write to her sister 
in pious and forbearing terms — 

‘ ‘ Since the Almighty, '' she wound 
up, ‘‘has, in accordance with His 
inscrutable Principles, chosen a 
weak and sinful agent for the accom- 
plishment of His all-merciful design 
(the preservation of my life), I must 
accept this as a sign that He desires 
me to unbend from my former at- 
titude of just, if reluctant, severity. 
If He has seen fit to forgive you for 
the disgrace and reproach you have 


6 


PROLOGUE. 


brought on our once stainless name, 
my duty as a Christian forbids me 
to make any further comment on 
your crime. But I cannot refrain 
from adding that my unceasing 
prayers for your repentance have 
no doubt furthered, more than it 
would become me to say, this 
miracle of grace. 

I will receive you this day week 
between two and four. 

Your affectionate sister, 

C. C. Portcullis. ’' 

Like Lady Lurewell in the comedy, 
Mrs. Portcullis could dress up a sin 
so religiously that the devil himself 
would hardly know it of his making. 
It is certain that she deceived her- 
self, and on reading over the fore- 
going she almost felt the prick of 
her immortal wings — which prick, 
as Plato tells us, is to the soul what 
the cutting of teeth is to the infant 


PROLOGUE. 


7 


But Lady Warcop's state of mind on 
receiving the letter, and her con- 
sequent remarks to the effect that 
Charlotte always was a hypocrite, a 
cat, and a fool, need not be insisted 
on here ; for, remembering Char- 
lotte’s wealth and several others 
matters, she wrote her reply in so 
meek and quiet a spirit that the 
hasty utterances of her unconsider- 
ing tongue shall not be known till 
the last Judgment. Although, as 
we have said. Lady Warcop had 
gained for herself a certain sneaking 
acknowledgment from so-called 
good society,* her own sister’s re- 
fusal to recognise her had always 
been a stumbling-block. There 
were still many desirable acquaint- 
ances who would not wink until 
Mrs. Portcullis winked, and this 
consideration was of such moment 
to Blanche, who only lived now to 
meet the right people in the right 


8 


PROLOGUE. 


way, that rather than miss the 
chance of reconciliation with Char- 
lotte, she would have performed 
even a more severe penance than 
did Henry II. at the shrine of St. 
Thomas of Canterbury. So giving 
much incidental praise to the 
Creator, but much more to Mrs. 
Portcullis, she wrote to say that she 
would call at Belgrave Square on 
the day and between the hours 
named in Charlotte’s most kind 
letter, and, begging her to continue 
her fervent supplications to Heaven, 
she remained her devoted, if un- 
worthy, sister Blanche. She dis- 
played very correct taste, Charlotte 
thought, in omitting the ill-gotten 
name of Warcop. 

II. 

Lady Warcop was a woman of 
medium stature, elegant mould, 
and cautious smiles. Deep-set blue 


PROLOGUE. 


9 


eyes and a very low brow, a nose 
inclined to the Roman, and a tell- 
ing mouth ; a smooth, rather pale 
complexion and innocent fair hair 
were the most remarkable points of 
a countenance which fascinated 
reason and looked reproach at 
distrust. At least seven years 
younger than Sir Sidney, and of 
singularly youthful appearance, she 
affected an artless manner and dis- 
played now that childish merriment 
not seen in children, and now that 
rudeness which passes for sincerity 
and is usually found in the disingen- 
uous. A being with many emo- 
tions but no heart, with ideas but no 
thoughts, there was so little, even 
in her folly, to excite interest, that, 
in calling her stupid, friends said 
their best and enemies their worst of 
her character. But the strong force 
in Lady Warcop was her sex : weak, 
untruthful, cowardly, and maliciouS; 


lO 


PROLOGUE. 


she was still no more than woman 
may be, and it was no slight virtue 
— though a negative one — to have 
kept this feminine quality, to have 
retained — after a life of sham pas- 
sions and passionate shams — that 
indefinable Eve-like pathos which 
from the beginning conquered — and 
until the end will conquer — the rig- 
our of strict criticism. 

Mrs. Portcullis, on the other hand, 
was big-boned, loud-voiced, and 
mighty, and so aggressive in her 
merits that she would have been 
more acceptable and pleasant for 
one of Lady Warcops cowering 
faults. Her high, white forehead 
and long chin gave her a grand and 
monumental air, which her widow’s 
cap, crape robes, and such-like par- 
aphernalia of woe made the more 
emphatic. 

The meeting between these two 
ladies, who had hated each other so 


PROLOGUE. 


II 


long and so cordially, was of the 
most edifying and tender nature. 
Blanche, who had intended to be 
dignified though pious, fell to mis- 
erable weeping, and Charlotte, 
touched by what she supposed was 
the sacrifice of a contrite heart, pro- 
nounced, goddess-like, a solemn 
benediction on Blanche's bowed 
head. Lady Warcops tears, how- 
ever, were those of suppressed rage 
and spite, and Charlotte's comfort- 
able words, ‘‘ I will make no ref- 
erence to the past," sent her into 
fresh spasms of grief. She remem- 
bered every quarrel of their earliest 
childhood : how Charlotte had 
always been the '‘good"one, the 
‘"forgiving" one, the one “who 
would grow up a comfort to her 
parents," the one who conscien- 
tiously picked plums out of her cake 
because they were bad for her — 
which plums, by-the-by, she used 


12 


PROLOGUE. 


to drop on the plate of the less self- 
controlled Blanche. Not vainly, 
alas ! But then, Charlotte did not 
like the taste of plums, preferring 
caraway seeds 1 The plum story 
loomed big in Lady Warcop’s brain, 
and she howled — not for her own 
sins, but at the remembrance of 
Charlottes treachery some thirty 
years before, when they both wore 
pinafores, and were only learning 
to be hypocrites. 

'‘I would not have known you,’' 
sobbed her ladyship, “ how you 
have changed ! What trouble you 
must have had ! Oh, Charlotte ! 
and to meet after all these years — 
two old women ! When I was last 
in this room you wore a mauve silk 
and it went so well with your com- 
plexion — you used to have such a 
beautiful colour and there was not a 
line on your face — or at least there 
were only a few ; but now — who 


PROLOGUE. 


13 


would think you were the same 
creature 

‘‘You are more fortunate than 
I am/' said Mrs. Portcullis, smil- 
ing horribly, ‘"for you have a 
grown-up daughter to remind us 
of your lost attractions ! " 

Blanche gasped, but although 
she felt the weight of Charlotte's 
blow she was not sufficiently 
skilled herself to appreciate its 
science. 

‘‘Oh," she said, growing red, 
“ do you mean Teresa ? " 

“Surely," quoth her sister, in a 
tone of horror, “there is but one I 
could mean ! " 

Lady Warcop lifted her eyes and 
gazed as bravely as she dared at 
the miniature of the late William 
Duncan Portcullis which reposed 
on Charlotte's adamantine breast. 
This miniature, however, only serv- 
ed to produce in Blanche the kind 


14 


PROLOGUE. 


of panic which we may suppose 
would fill any weak creature who 
saw scalps adorning the person of 
a warlike adversary. 

“Tell me about Teresa/' said 
Mrs. Portcullis, choosing the sub- 
ject most humiliating to her sister. 

“She is at school." 

“I understood she was in a 
convent." 

“Yes," faltered Lady Warcop, 
“there is a school in the convent ! " 

“ From a Romish point of view 
such equivocation, I know, is not 
considered disgraceful. Our relig- 
ion, thank God, is not so easy ! 
You must send for her at once. 
She is, if I remember rightly, eigh- 
teen and a half, and, not to hurt 
your feelings, she can only retrieve 
the lamentable circumstances of 
her birth by making a good mar- 
riage. Although we have not met, 
my dear Blanche, you have been 


PROLOGUE. 


^ 5 ^ 

ever in my mind, and the altera- 
tion in my appearance which you 
find so startling is, no doubt, mi- 
raculously evident to you because 
your disgrace has been its sole 
cause. Blessed with the kindest 
of husbands and a good con- 
science, I have had, nevertheless, a 
constant sorrow — that sorrow was 
my sister s shame. Oh ! do not 
suppose I utter this as a reproach ! 
I name it because I think my long 
years of grief give me the right to 
express a very strong opinion on 
the subject of your unhappy child's 
education and future. Your own 
sense will tell you that she must 
be guarded far more strictly than 
other girls. For instance, she must 
not be seen at balls, theaters, race- 
courses, country houses, or the 
like, but must rest content with 
dinners, oratorios, and good works 
for the poor. " 


i6 


PROLOGUE. 


^^You are too kind/' said Lady 
Warcop, who had listened with 
astonishing patience to her sister s 
speech, ‘^but I do not wish Teresa 
to leave the convent at present. 
She is extremely happy there, and 
I can only wish that at her age I 
might have found such a peaceful 
home far removed from the tempta- 
tions and wickedness of this deceit- 
ful world ! As for her marrying, I 
have too much reason to regret my 
own early marriage — the cause of 
all my trouble — to wish the poor 
child to risk a similar mistake." 

“You did not leave dear Douglas 
for a richer man ! " said Mrs. Port- 
cullis, in a tone which implied that 
if Blanche had made a more discreet 
choice, her sin would have been less 
odious. 

“Perhaps not," said Blanche; 
“but I left a man who did not under- 
stand me for one who You 


PROLOGUE. 


17 


know, Charlotte, that Sidney could 
make himself very agreeable. There 
were many women who would have 
been far readier than I was to run 
away with him. Indeed, he has often 
said that it was my resistance which 
chiefly excited his admiration, and 
if I had not been so firm on my side, 
he would not have been so deter- 
mined on his. I saw that from the 
first, and I cannot tell you the hours 
we spent arguing the matter from 
every possible point of view. He 
used a great deal of persuasion (and 
you may be sure I would not have 
wasted a thought on him if he had 
not), but I took the final step with 
great reluctance. We may have 
been foolish, but we meant no 
wrong. I was unhappy ; he was 
kind to me ; we were both young.’' 

Sir Sidney was certainly young,” 
said Mrs. Portcullis. ‘‘As for you, 

I can make no excuse on the ground 

2 


i8 


PROLOGUE. 


of your age, for I always blame the 
woman in such cases, and, to my 
mind, it does not matter in the least 
whether she be sixteen or sixty. But 
it is a subject I must refuse to dis- 
cuss with you, since, in the nature 
of things, it is inexpressibly painful 
to me. Let us return to the pressing 
and all-important question of Te- 
resa’s future. I would suggest that 
you send for her at once, and then 
you may bring her with you to a 
small dinner I am giving on the 
twentieth. The Dundrys, the Paget- 
Herons, and a few other old friends 
of mine are coming.” 

Blanche, who had been hopelessly 
lioping these many years for a smile 
of recognition from the Lady Dundry 
(known among her intimates as 

Arabella, dowdy, but exclusive”), 
no sooner heard that magic name 
than her whole demeanor changed. 
The little dignity and resolution she 


PROLOGUE. 


19 


had assumed fell like a veil, and it 
was soon agreed between the two 
women that Teresa should be sent 
for on the morrow. 

‘^The nuns must bring her to 
London,'' said Blanche, ‘Tor Sidney 
hates the Channel, and it is death 
to me'' 

Y et she had crossed it on the great 
occasion of her elopement. 

III. 

Four days after this interview be- 
tween Lady Warcop and her sister. 
Sir Sidney might have been seen 
making his way towards Bedford 
Row. In person he was unusually 
handsome, his head and features 
reminding one in a striking degree 
of the popular representation of 
Cicero, while his extraordinarily bril- 
liant blue eyes and lively hair did 
full justice to his Celtic origin. As 
in the case of Agamemnon, there 


20 


PROLOGUE. 


were many men taller than he, but 
in a crowd he was not to be matched 
for grace and majesty of movement. 
There was, however, a certain 
studied ease in his gestures, a pre- 
meditated charm in his manner, 
which to those who disagreed with 
his politics made insincerity seem 
the sincerest thing about him. But 
if he had not a guileless soul, he had 
at least immaculate linen, which so 
dazzled the spectator by its purity 
that to a cynical mind it might have 
seemed that in this generation a 
good laundress is more useful than 
a clean record. 

When Sir Sidney entered the pri- 
vate office of Mr. Robert Waddilove 
(of the firm of Waddilove, Shorn- 
cliffe, Shorncliffe, and Pride, Soli- 
citors), Mr. Waddilove rose from 
his chair, bowed, and remembered 
the time when he would have called 
on his client and trifled away a 


PROLOGUE. 


21 


pleasant morning with scandal, 
choice cigars, incomparable sherry, 
and a ‘Mittle matter of business,” 
which came last and was invariably 
left to your discretion, Waddi- 
love,” But now, oh heavy change ! 
Even as the Baronet entered he 
looked at his watch. 

'‘Not detain you ten minutes,” 
he said, speaking rapidly, and as 
though he were dictating a telegram. 
"Not legal, but domestic. Wife 
most annoying. Teresa coming 
home. Wife in hysterics every 
time girl’s name is mentioned. No 
living in the house.” 

Waddilove rubbed his chin. He 
was a man of middle age, short, 
but so compactly built that to look 
at him made one think of bricks 
and cement. His quick brown eyes 
were remarkable for their curiously 
mingled expression of shrewdness, 
scepticism, and good humor, and 


22 


PROLOGUE. 


his wry mouth showed that if he 
drank in life like a worldling, he 
swallowed it like a philosopher. 
His nose was of the penetrating 
order, and seemed to have jutted 
prematurely from his forehead, 
which was broad and thoughtful. 

His under-lip twitched a little at 
the close of Sir Sidney’s remarks. 
^'We will call this a friendly chat,” 
he said quietly. 

'‘Eh.J^”said the Baronet, with 
a radiant air, ‘‘not professional.'^ 
Well, after all, it is not a legal mat- 
ter. But you are quite sure ? Still, 
between such old friends any ques- 
tion of business and that sort of 
thing is unpleasant. Conversation 
becomes restrained at once.” He 
chose a chair, and sat in statuesque 
ease. 

“You know what women are,” 
he said. 

Waddilove closed his eyes as 


PROLOGUE. 


23 


though he would exclude a painful 
vision. 

‘'You know what my wife is/' 
continued Sir Sidney. 

The lawyer looked grave, in the 
formal manner appropriate to the 
discussion of family skeletons — a 
manner not so much indicative of 
pity, which might verge too much 
on the familiar, as of concern — dis- 
interested, brain-felt concern. 

“I have nothing to say against 
Lady Warcop," said her husband. 
“She has many excellent qualities, 
but on the subject of Teresa she is 
a — what-do-you-call-'em .? " 

“An enigma," suggested Wad- 
dilove, but in a voice so modulated 
that had the word been unwelcome 
it might have passed for a cough. 

“ That is the thing," said Sir Sid- 
ney, “an enigma. And to turn 
against her own daughter, her only 
ghild ! She has not seen her since 


24 


PROLOGUE. 


she was born ; there has always 
been some excuse. But now she 
has suddenly sent for her, and God 
knows why, for no sooner had she 
written the letter than she declared 
she would not have her in the 
house. Damn it all ! it is 7ny house 
and my daughter ! When a man 
cannot have his own way in his 
own house, then — then it comes to 
this — somebody must give in. If I 
say, ‘ Blanche, I am going to put 
my foot down,' she begins to cry. 
She says, too, that her hair is turn- 
ing grey with silent worry. And 
you know, Waddilove, she is never 
silent, and she is no longer so young 
that a grey hair or two seems ex- 
traordinary. But there are quarrels 
between us from morning till night, 
and I cannot allow it. Life is not 
worth living. Why did she send 
for the girl if she did not want her 
Where's the consistency ? As I told 


PROLOGUE. 


25 


Blanche this morning — ^Blanche/ I 
said, as kindly as possible — I did 
not want a scene, as you may im- 
agine — ^Blanche,' I said, ^ if you 
will tell me why you sent for Teresa, 

in the first place' But, God bless 

your soul ! before the words were 
out of my mouth she flew at me 
like a tigress. . And what do you 
think she said? ^What ! do you 
begrudge your own child her right- 
ful home ? I suppose you do not 
wish to be reminded of the past. 
For it was all your fault, although I 
have had all the blame.' Imagine 
her referring to dead and gone mat- 
ters in that offensive manner ! And 
she was the one who had been 
abusing the poor child — not I. I 
ask you what could any man do 
with a woman like that ? ” 

^^It is a very difficult question,’' 
said Waddilove. 

And there is nothing to be gained 


26 


PROLOGUE. 


by a separation/' said Sir Sidney, 
“because she is so unreasonable, 
and can neither make head nor tail 
of the law. There is no peace for 
me this side of the grave." 

“What does Lady Warcop sug- 
gest "said Waddilove. “What are 
her wishes in the matter ? " 

“God knows ! " said Sir Sidney. 
“ If I knew what she wanted we 
might come to some understanding. 
But one moment she says one thing 
and the next another. My health 
will not bear it much longer. What 
do you advise me to do in the mean- 
time ? " 

“You must be firm,” said Waddi- 
love. 

“Impossible; quite impossible. 
Whenever I speak firmly she begins 
to cry. You see, she is a gentle, 
sweet-tempered sort of woman by 
nature. One does not like to be 
brutal. " 


PROLOGUE. 


27 


Have you tried persuasion ? 
have tried everything — coax- 
ing, threatening, commanding, and 
exhorting ; jokes, presents, theatres, 
and sermons ; reading, singing, 
playing, and, so far as that goes, 
praying. No husband could do 
more to make his wife happy — un- 
less, indeed, he blew his brains 
out ! 

“ I am afraid,'' said Waddilove, 
‘‘you must make up your mind to 
endure these annoyances." 

Sir Sidney sighed heavily and 
rose from his chair. “Before I 
married her," he said, “she was 
as mild as an angel. She was a 
little contrary now and again, but 
one kind word, and she would do 
anything. Douglas Cockburn never 
understood that, and tried bullying. 
Now I see, however, that there were 
faults on both sides. Of course, I 
would not say as much to any one 


28 


PROLOGUE. 


else. This is a judgment on me, 
Waddilove, and if I did not know it 
was a judgment I could not bear it 
another day. As it is, I will face it 
out to the bitter end. Good-bye.” 

He left the office with the uneasy 
idea that he had been talking too 
freely, and, as a consequence, he 
began to hate Waddilove as a pry- 
ing, impertinent fellow — a fellow to 
be avoided. What right had he to 
ask so many questions ? But it had 
been a relief to speak out : to utter 
his feelings ; to rid himself even by 
a straw’s weight of that load of 
sorrow, disappointment, dissatisfac- 
tion, and weariness, the bearing of 
which, after all, proved that his poor 
fragment of a soul had still its use 
in the scheme of salvation. 

IV. 

Lady Warcop, meanwhile, was 
pacing the floor of her boudoir. In 


PROLOGUE. 


29 


her hand she held the photograph 
of a singularly plain little girl, who 
stood in a cork grotto staring at a 
stuffed dog. This portrait of Teresa 
had been taken some ten years 
before, and Blanche had lacked the 
courage to send for another. And 
now, without warning, to be obliged 
to present this to the world ! It 
was too hard, too bitter, too out- 
rageous. Was ever woman called 
upon to suffer such mortification 1 
As for motherly feelings, what were 
they.J^ How could she love a crea- 
ture she had never seen .? Some 
one had once shown her an infant, 
but she had felt too ill to notice the 
piteous object. She did not even 
understand that it was her own. 
There was so much cant and non- 
sense talked about maternal in- 
stinct. A cab drove up to the door; 
with a cry, her Ladyship rushed to 
the window. Thank goodness, it 


3 ^ 


PROLOGUE. 


was only Sidney. What suffering ! 
What suspense ! One more day like 
this, and she would be on her 
death-bed. 

Ah ! so you have come at last, 
Sidney ? ” Where had he been all 
the morning ? She made few de- 
mands on his time, but she certainly 
thought that in common decency 
and merely for the sake of ap- 
pearances he would have remained 
with her to receive poor darling 
Teresa. It was true that she had 
not yet arrived, but this did not 
alter the fact that he might have 
missed her. Poor child ! a stranger 
in her own father s house ! But the 
world was a cruel place, and she, 
for her part, was sick and tired 
of it. If it were not for Teresa, 
who needed a mother’s care, she 
was by no means sure that she 
might not seek a speedy way out of 
it. Suicide, of course, was wicked. 


PROLOGUE. 


31 

but God was never hard on women. 
He understood them : men did not. 
. . . Was that the bell 

Go and meet her/’ said Blanche. 
‘‘Try and look affectionate. I 
want the poor little thing to think 
we are glad to see her. As for me, 
I feel too ill and extraordinary to 
move.” 

As she spoke, however, the door 
was opened, and two nuns, followed 
by a young girl, were ushered in. 
Her Ladyship flushed and paled, 
and, without speaking, with tears 
raining down her cheeks, took the 
girl in her arms, tenderly, closely, 
as only a mother can. 

Sir Sidney rubbed his eyes, almost 
fearing to rest them on a scene so 
beautiful, so new in his experience. 
Blanche seemed to him transfigured, 
and he saw in that brief moment 
the woman she might have been : 
all the fair ambitions she had for- 


3 ^ 


PROLOGUE. 


g-otten, all the good impulses she 
had not obeyed flashed their pure 
light on her countenance. 

Like some guilty creature, he left 
the room. He was the only sinner 
there. 



CHARACTERS OF THE BOOK. 


Lord Twacorbie. 

Sidney Wiche, M.P., Proprietor and Editor 
of^^ The WatchmanP 

Nicholas T. Van Huyster, an America?t 
millionaire afid poet. 

Captain Saville Rookes. 

Sir Ventry Coxe, a widozver. 

Lady Twacorbie, his sister. 

The Hon. Felicia Gorm, her step-daughter. 
Teresa Warcop, an heiress^ cousin to Lady 
Twacorbie. 

Lady Mallinger, a very yoimg widow. 
Luffy, the head-gardener. 

Spalding, the butler. 

Mrs. Danby the housekeeper. 


The scene is laid at Arden Lodge, the 
country seat of Lord Twacorbie, in Hert- 
fordshire. The action takes place in the 
course of twenty-four hours. 

“ One day is with the Lord as a thousand 
years, a7td a thousa^id years as 07te day.'' 

3 




A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 

L 

HE dining--room in Arden 
Lodge was superbly fur- 
nished with a silver chan- 
delier. This splendid ob- 
ject was of such incomparable in- 
terest that Lord Twacorbie, who 
was a man of taste no less than 
an economist, had the walls which 
formed its background, bare, the 
floor beneath covered with a plain 
drugget, and the tables and chairs 
in the apartment of the sim- 
plest design. On the same artistic 
principle, he gave large dinners, 
35 



36 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


at which the rarest, indeed, un- 
heard-of delicacies, (which were 
as disagreeable to the palate as 
they were interesting to the explorer 
and antiquarian), formed the brief 
but sufficient menu. 

On a certain evening in the early 
spring of 189- one of these dinners 
had taken place with unusual suc- 
cess, possibly because most of the 
thirty guests were persons of im- 
portance, probably because some 
roast mutton had, by a new cook's 
judicious mistake, formed a vulgar 
but stimulating addition to the 
choice viands of the banquet. The 
ladies had left the table, and the 
fifteen men who remained sighed, 
some with relief, some with regret, 
some from the force of example, 
and some because they could dine 
no more that day. 

Lord Twacorbie was a gentleman 
whom food did not nourish, and 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


37 


whose airy shapelessness made him 
seem in some way symbolic of the 
universe when it was without form, 
and void. To-night he fluttered a 
smile like the sun's on a March 
morning, and surveyed the com- 
pany with the feverish gaiety of one 
wh( is too seriously bored to risk 
showing languor. He was of all 
men the last to entertain a table, 
yet few attempted the task so often, 
and no one could have been more 
ignorant of his failures. He started 
a conversation on the Early Mar- 
riages Bill, and quoted, with in- 
spired inaccuracy, a speech recently 
made on that subject by his friend, 
Sidney Wichu Wiche, who hap- 
pened to be present, endured his 
host s recital with the air of one ac- 
customed to suffering ; at its close 
his countenance had something 
humorous, pathetic, and sublime — 
St. Lawrence on the gridiron saying, 


38 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


‘'Turn me! This side is done!’' 
must have looked just so. The 
editor of The Watchman was a man 
of slender frame and with fewer 
inches than the ordinary ; a small 
mortal whose boundless spirit — im- 
prisoned yet not impatient for re- 
lease — gazed through his eyes. His 
pale face, dull brown hair and duller 
beard, and the absence in his manner 
of all that marks the creature of 
many fashions and one epoch, had 
made him more famous for his in- 
significance than any of his con- 
temporaries for their distinction. 
He was about seven-and-thirty, and 
hard work had made him look much 
older. 

Two men who sat at the far end 
of the table seized the advantage of 
their position, and, talking in un- 
dertones, studied him with lively 
interest. 

“Of course, he is clever,” said 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


39 


the elder of the two ; “or, at least, 
he is a great man for the mob. 
There is a distinction between great- 
ness and being great in the eyes of 
a certain class. ” The speaker. Sir 
Ventry Coxe, had the so-called aris- 
tocratic air sometimes found in 
men of middle-class extraction, but 
unknown amongst the old nobility. 
Very young girls, sentimental wo- 
men, and men of his own stamp, 
thought him extremely handsome : 
his features were bold and well-de- 
fined, his dark eyes could express 
any drawing-room emotion with 
really excellent effect ; his thin, 
straight lips suggested his refined 
tastes to those who understand 
culture as leanness and vulgarity as 
curves. 

“ What do they think of Wiche in 
America.? '' continued the Baronet. 

“They wonder that he does not 
marry, replied his companion ; 


40 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


‘'there are so many pretty women 
in England. 

Mr. Nicholas T. Van Huyster 
was a young man about eight-and- 
twenty, tall, slight, dark, and clean- 
shaven. His face was not at first 
sight sympathetic, but, on the other 
hand, he did not have the aggres- 
sive air of one who is conscious that 
he must be known to be appre- 
ciated. 

" Wiche is not popular in society,'' 
said Sir Ventry. " He has no pres- 
ence, no manners, no small talk." 

"No," answered the American, 
“he is not that modern of each May 
so beloved of dining London." 

" His family is nothing," said Sir 
Ventry. " His mother was a per- 
son of no education, who lived with 
an art-critic called Wiche. By the 
by, can you imagine a more miser- 
able occupation than this scribbling 
about art ? What is Art.? Madness 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


41 


in most cases, and mere frippery in 
others. And only one man here 
and there makes it pay. Look at 
Nature, I say, if you want beautiful 
pictures. But I was telling you 
about this fellow. It seems he 
was christened Sidney Wiche ; his 
mother said that his name was at 
least Christian if it was not legal ! I 
am thankful to say I never met her. 
I do not pretend to be a saint, but a 
woman without a conscience strikes 
me dumb ! I feel that there is noth- 
ing more to say ! 

''Conscience is the name which 
the orthodox give to their preju- 
dices,’' said Van Huyster. "But 
have you ever heard,” he went on, 
drawing out his pocket-book, "that 
Wiche’s father left a very eccentric 
will ? I received this from New 
York last night.” He handed a 
newspaper cutting to Sir Ventry, 
who read the following : — 


42 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


‘ * Sidney Wiche was to he first a 
Christian^ then a scholar^ and in 
course of time a philosophical poli- 
tician. He was not to marry ^ ^ but 
ran the strange document, ^should 
he feel drawn towards the married 
state let him give the 7natter his best 
consideration for a 710 less term than 
five years, smce 7narriage is of all 
subjects the one most darkened by 
fallacy, falsehood, a7id false senti- 
ment, ’ During this period of prayer 
and reflectio7i he was to read ^ neither 
poets nor roma7icers, but St. Thomas 
Aquinas, Cardinal Newman, and the 
great historia7is, who, between them, 
would so satisfy his soul, his manli- 
ness, and his commo7i-sense that after 
their compa7ty any feminine prattler 
would seem a plague rather tha7i a 
treasure.' He was to shun 'as he 
would the devil, lear7ied ladies, ladies 
with artistic gifts, ladies who talked 
religion, and ladies who were not 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


43 


ladies ! ' In conclusion, he was ear- 
nestly exhorted to practice the pious 
exercise of meditating for two hours 
daily on his own nothingness ! 

“Very interesting,” remarked Sir 
Ventry ; “but interesting things 
are never true.” 

“And the truth is only convinc- 
ing when it is told by an experi- 
enced liar,” observed Nicholas. 

“Old Wiche has been dead for 
some time,” said Sir Ventry, “and 
I never heard that he left Sidney 
either means of support or instruc- 
tions ; it ought to be made known 
if he did. One likes to hear that a 
man has behaved like a gentleman 
in such matters. Unfortunately, he 
died abroad, and his affairs were 
managed by these Italian scoun- 
drels. One can get nothing out of 
them. I must say I like English 
straightforwardness. ” 


44 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


The Watchman must bring in 
a large income,” said Van Huyster. 

Undoubtedly,” replied Sir Ven- 
try. ‘'But what a rag the paper 
is ! These Radicals are ruining the 
nation.” 

“ I thought Wiche was a member 
of your own party. ” 

“My own party,” said Sir Ven- 
try, “is not necessarily my own 
politics ! As a man,” he went on, 
after a pause, “ I like the fellow 
well enough, and now that he has 
pushed his way into the world we 
all try to forget his origin. But 
with every desire to be fair, I can- 
not bring myself to regard him as 
a suitable match for any relative of 
my own. It is only too well-known 
that he admires my sister’s step- 
daughter, Miss Gorm.” 

‘‘That does not surprise me,” 
said Van Huyster, fetching a deep 
sigh, “she is lovely. Her face is 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


45 


so bright yet so delicate — a star 
wrapped in gauze ! 

Sir Ventry dropped his lower jaw, 
but recovered it on remembering 
that the millionaire wrote poetry, 
very bad poetry, too. ‘‘Felicia is 
certainly good-looking,’' he said ; 
“perhaps you are aware that her 
mother, the former Lady Twacorbie, 
was an American. She made Twa- 
corbie an excellent wife, however, 
greatly improved the estate and 
was very much liked by the Royal- 
ties. She died young.” 

“Good wives so often do,” mur- 
mured Van Huyster, “perhaps that 
is one of their brightest virtues.” 

Sir Ventry abhorred anything in 
the nature of satire — it seemed to 
him a convenient name for offensive 
and unmistakable allusions to his 
own character and career. On this 
occasion he wondered whether Van 
Huyster was aware that he, too. 


46 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


Sir Ventry Coxe, had in his day 
buried some sixty-three inches of 
weary perfection. He decided to 
ignore the remark. 

“One can see/' he said, “that 
Felicia is extremely un-English : 
her manners are a little crude. But 
I like a woman who can talk : a 
man wants to be amused, he does 
not want to wear his brains out 
amusing a wife ! " 

At this point Lord Twacorbie 
rose up from the table. 

The pantry was immediately be- 
hind the dining-room — and here, at 
the close of the dinner, Spalding, 
the butler, the head-gardener, Luffy, 
and Mrs. Danby, the housekeeper, 
were engaged in conversation of an 
even more instructive nature than 
that indulged in by Lord Twa- 
corbie and his distinguished com- 


pany. 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


47 


*'Who came down from town 
this evening ? '' asked Luffy. 

''SirVentry, Mr. Wiche, Captain 
Rookes, and this new American, Mr. 
Van Huyster, '' said the housekeeper. 

‘‘And who are the .women: 
continued Luffy. 

“Miss Warcop for one,'" said 
Mrs. Danby. “Between ourselves 
her ladyship is on the matchmaking 
hop again. But there — when did 
she ever pull anything off what you 
may call satisfactory ? She's too 
hopeful. And say what you like, 
Luffy, it doesn't do to be hopeful in 
this world. Expect nothing, I say ! " 
The widow shook her head, and 
heaved her breast, and hurled a 
poignant glance at Spalding, who 
had been shuddering on the brink 
of matrimony for twelve and a 
half years. 

“It might be a very good thing 
for Sir Ventry if Miss Warcop would 


48 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


have him/’ said Spalding; ''but 
the question arises in my mind, will 
she ? If she would take my advice 
she would stay single ! ” 

"Everybody is not so wrapt up 
in theirselves as you are, ” said Mrs. 
Danby, tartly. 

" If I was a woman,” murmured 
Spalding, in a weak voice, "the 
man doesn’t live that I would sacri- 
fice my peace of mind for. Men 
are not worth so much thought. 
The devotion of women is some- 
thing awful to think of. ” 

" It is,” sighed Luffy, whose wife 
had a jealous temperament, "it is.” 

" I can say this much,” said Mrs. 
Danby : "when Miss Warcop mar- 
ries she will not choose a conceited, 
self-seeking, cold-hearted, unfeeling 
half-a-man like Sir Ventry ! I would 
not look at him — no, not if he draped 
me in diamonds from head to foot I 
Mr. Wiche is the man for her.” 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


49 


‘^Not he/' said Spalding, '^he's 
got his eye on Lady Mallinger." 

he was to roll his eyes at 
Lady Mallinger from now till Dooms- 
day/' said Mrs. Danby, should 
still say that he and Miss Warcop 
were made for each other. And, 
what is more, they will marry. 
Whoever lives longest will see the 
most. I know what I know. If 
God Almighty intends a couple to 
marry that marriage will come off. 
The man can't help himself. Just 
you bear that in mind ! " 

She left them, and neither of the 
men had the courage to smile. 
They talked instead of the new 
Cemetery, and grew cheerful on the 
subject of coffins. 



4 



11 . 

RDEN LODGE in Hertford- 
shire is a large, white build- 
ing surrounded by beautiful 
grounds, and facing the finest 
scenery in the county. This is say- 
ing a great deal, for although Hert- 
ford is fiat and not at all wild or what 
is called romantic, its rivers and 
fields, gardens and woods, toy-like 
farms and shady parks are, for their 
kind, the prettiest in the world. And 
one can only find such peculiar pret- 
tiness in England ; it is so well- 
disposed, calm and unsuggestive — 
inspiring neither passionate senti- 

50 



A BUxVDLE OE LIEK. 


52 


ments, nor unearthly music, nor 
flaming- words, but what, in some 
opinions, may be better than all 
these — a dreamless, ineffable drowsi- 
ness. 

On the morning after the dinner- 
party, a lady and gentleman were 
strolling on the Terrace which led 
by wide steps on to the lawn of 
Lord Twacorbie’s residence. The 
lady was Miss Warcop : her escort 
was Sidney Wiche. 

Teresa was no longer in her first 
youth, and she had never been 
pretty : her oval face was colorless, 
heavy black eyebrows overhung her 
hazel eyes ; mouth, nose, and chin 
were too obviously mouth, nose, 
and chin. She was remarkable, 
however, and only needed a repu- 
tation for wickedness to make her 
considered curiously fascinating. 

As these two came down the steps, 
they were commenting on the 


52 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


weather, the unusual warmth, seeing 
it was but Easter, and the freshness 
of the air. When they reached the 
lawn, they walked in silence to a 
seat, sat down and stared at the 
landscape. They were evidently 
old friends. 

“Well,'' said Wiche, at last, “is 
the most practical woman in the 
world, dreaming } " 

“I was thinking of you," she an- 
swered, looking at him with such 
frank, unclouded affection that he 
blushed to think how little he de- 
served it. He might have made 
some answer, but as she spoke they 
both heard the rustle of silk skirts : 
the sound grew nearer : at last a 
lady, charmingly attired in a gown 
which suggested gray vapor and 
sunlight, approached them. She 
presented a strange effect of bril- 
liance, fragility, and mistiness : her 
features were soft, and her head in 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


53 


profile seemed rather a shadow in 
the air than something real or hu- 
man. But the shadow was plainly 
womanish — one could never have 
mistaken it for an angel’s. Her 
skin was fair, her hair light brown, 
her eyes blue, sapphirine, deep, a 
little troubled : she gazed at Wiche, 
he gazed at her ; Teresa watched the 
meeting with some uneasiness. 

did not know that the glare 
was so great,” she said, faintly; 

should have brought my par- 
asol. ” 

“ Let me fetch it ! ” said Wiche. 

She thanked him as, with an ad 
mirable semblance of good humor, 
he left them. 

You met Mr. Wiche some years 
ago, did you not.?” Teresa asked, 
turning to Lady Mallinger : “did 
you know him at all well ? ” 

“That would depend on what 
you call well,'' said the younger 


54 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


woman. Her voice was strangely 
melodious : to hear it was to think 
of the fabulous singing of fabulous 
sirens. If she babbled of brick- 
dust, one thought only of lute- 
strings. For this reason she was 
never quoted accurately. 

‘‘I mean,'’ said Teresa, ‘‘were 
you great friends ? ” 

“I should not say that." 

“I thought I saw him looking at 
you rather often during dinner last 
evening." 

“Did he.?^ " said Lady Mallinger. 
“ I hope my hair was dressed prop- 
erly. My maid is in love just at 
present, and she makes me quite 
frightful. It is not that she is ma- 
licious, but Love is so distracting." 
Smiling sweetly, she looked first at 
the trees, then at the grass, and 
finally at Teresa. “ In some ways," 
she went on, “I am rather sorry to 
renew Mr. Wiche's acquaintance : 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


55 


we have nothing in common — 
absolutely nothing. He has the 
instincts of a Turk : he does not 
believe in a woman's intellect. 
Sometimes I wish I really was 
stupid and lived in a harem ! ” 

My dear ! " said Teresa. 

“ I do, indeed : women were not 
made to struggle and strive. They 
ought only to be fed and clothed 
and petted. But I thought other- 
wise once. Before my marriage I 
was anxious to work out a career : 
I wanted to be artistic : I thought I 
might become a famous actress. 
Ah, to think of those days when I 
was hoping and dreaming, when 
my thoughts were my achievements, 
when the future seemed so far and 
the present so eternal ! ” Her voice 
trembled, she flushed and then grew 
pale : one could imagine that she 
was struggling in a very hurricane 
of lost possibilities, ''But when 


5 ^ 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


work began in earnest, ” she con- 
tinued, ‘‘when art became a task, 
and dreaming, waste of time, I con- 
fess I grew sick of ambition. I 
only wanted to sit idle in the market- 
place. And so I married, and 
danced, and dressed, and chattered : 
I gave up thinking — it made me 
too miserable.” Teresa had an 
extraordinary power of winning 
confidences : perhaps because she 
rarely talked. 

“ A woman s mission is to play 
the fool,” continued Lady Mal- 
linger, “and that is why she can 
only lead a man so long as she does 
not love him. On the instant she 
loves, she must be honest or die : 
she loses all discretion : she quarrels 
when she should cajole, smiles when 
she should frown, utters ugly truth 
when she should tell pretty lies : 
she cannot flatter, she cannot pre- 
tend — in fact, she can do nothing 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


57 


but love — and that beyond sense.” 
Commanding was not the word for 
Lady Mallingers manner : yet there 
was that in her air which insisted, 
which brooked no denial, which 
said plainly enough : What I think 
must be, because I was not born to 
be disappointed ! ” 

I do not agree with you,” said 
Teresa, because if I loved a man I 
would have no desire to lead him. 
I could only pray that I might not 
prove his stumbling-block, and that 
we might help each other to do 
right rightly. Life is so hard to 
live alone.” 

‘‘Oh, if I only dared to be nat- 
ural,” exclaimed Lady Mallinger ; 
“if I only dared to tell all I think, 
and feel, and know. If I could 
only drop this tedious gossiping and 
grinning ! I am not tired of living, 
but I am tired of my body — of this 
mummy-case. When I was a child. 


58 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


I felt old ; now I am a woman, I feel 
young. I want to go back to the 
youth of the world : I want the 
time when love was the only hap- 
piness, and folly the highest wis- 
dom ! 

‘^Did you ever talk like this to 
Mr. Wiche ? '' said Teresa. 

Of course not,'’ said Lady Mal- 
linger. I only talk nonsense to 
men ! " 

‘‘ Dear me ! Yet I daresay they 
like it. But I promised to show 
Mr. Wiche the primrose path. As 
you do not care for him, I will meet 
him half-way. See ! he is coming 
now." She rose from her seat and 
hastened across the lawn in the 
direction of the house. Lady Mal- 
linger sat smiling to herself : she 
had never suffered from jealousy, 
and she thought it the drollest of 
passions. She was on the verge of 
laughter when Captain Rookes ap- 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


59 


peared on the Terrace. He was 
undeniably handsome : his features 
had that harmonious irregularity 
which is so much more like truth 
than beauty, so much more life-like, 
sinner-like, and love-like than per- 
fection. His eyes flashed fire and 
sentiment — youth lacking either is 
dull — melancholy had added a force 
to their magic. 

Are you sure,” he said anx- 
iously, as he approached Lady Mal- 
linger, are you sure that it is dis- 
creet to meet here where every one 
can see us ? ” 

^‘Of course,” said her ladyship, 
whose whole bearing and manner 
changed, and who now assumed 
an infantile, prattling, and pouting 
simplicity ; of course, I hate out- 
of-the-way corners.” 

Speak a little lower, darling,” 
said Saville, there may be some 
gardeners about.” 


6o 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


That would not matter.’' 

Not matter.^^ My dear Lilian, 
you do not know the world. If the 
world knew how much we loved 
each other, it would grow suspi- 
cious." 

‘ ^ Why ? Numbers of people love 
each other." 

‘‘Yes," said the Captain, “but we 
are not like other people. I love 
you too well to ask you to marry 
me and so drag you down to a mis- 
erable shabby-genteel existence. " 

“I do not mind being poor, 
Saville," said Lady IMallinger, 
eagerly. “ Before my marriage, 
Papa only allowed me sixty pounds 
a year for my clothes, and every 
one said how well I managed. 
That, I know, was as a girl, and, of 
course, a married woman has to 
dress more — in a sense — but a hand- 
some mantle goes a long way. 
Lady Twacorbie has worn that 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


6l 

satin and lace thing at least four 
seasons : she has had the sleeves 
altered, and it has been re-lined 
with a different color, but it is the 
same cloak ! And I am tired of 
marrying for money : it is not as 
though I had not tried it. No one 
can say that I gave the least trouble 
when they married me to Charles — 
although I never did admire red 
hair, and he was the worst dancer 
in his regiment. I know he was 
most civil to poor Papa, but after 
all he. was not so rich as they 
thought him, and it would have 
been wiser, perhaps, if I had re- 
mained single a little longer. But 
you, Saville, I could be poor with 
you : you are so sympathetic, and 
you wrote me such a beautiful letter 
when Charles died. I am sure, too, 
that he would have been pleased 
with that lovely wreath 1 And — > 
and I cannot forget the old days 


62 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


when we made toffee together in 
the schoolroom at home. Do you 
remember ? ” 

Saville tried to look as though the 
toffee episode had for him thoughts 
too deep for utterance. He flung 
cautious glances about the scene 
and then hastily pressed her hand. 

‘‘ How can you ask.? ” he said : 
‘‘But believe me, dearest Lilian, 
our only duty is renunciation. I 
mean, we must forget our love, and 
if we can, each other. I have been 
waiting months to And words for all 
this: it seemed unutterable. Truth 
is difficult, and the less one speaks 
it the harder it grows. I have lied 
when I pretended to be happy. I 
And it easier after all to admit that 
I am in despair. Yet not despair — 
because I feel that honor is still 
dearer to me than your society. 
The thought is hackneyed, but so 
are the commandments. Some day 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


63 


you will meet some excellent, well- 
meaning man who will have a for- 
tune worth offering you. Perhaps 
he will not be much to look at and 
he may not be polished in his man- 
ners. I daresay, too, that he will 
often say and do much which will 
jar on your refined taste. But polish 
is not everything I ” 

I cannot live,” cried Lady Mal- 
linger, ^‘in an unpolished atmos- 
phere ! ” 

‘‘You see, my darling, we all 
have to endure disagreeable things 
in this life ; money and love never 
seem to go together.” 

“We should have fifteen hundred 
a year,” whimpered Lilian. 

“What is that, my dear child ” 
said Saville. “Two thousand is 
the lowest income I can conceive 
myself marrying on. As I have 
said, if I cared for you in the 
ordinary, vulgar way, I might risk 


64 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


everything and urge you to ruin my 
whole life — and perhaps your own 
as well. So, darling, is it fair to 
tempt me ? ” 

do not want to tempt you,'' 
said Lady Mallinger. ‘ ‘ I only want 
to talk sensibly. Please, please, 
dear Saville, do not say that I am 
tempting you. I would not be so 
wicked, for I am sure you only 
want to do right, and men know 
much more about honor and in- 
comes and things like that than 
women do ! " 

Sweet, submissive, believing, un- 
assertive Lilian, of a type all but 
extinct! Where would he find such 
another.? He rose from his seat in 
agitation, feeling, for the moment, 
that he might in an emergency 
show the splendid indiscretion of a 
hero. But the mood passed, and 
with it a great deal of Lady Mal- 
linger's folly. Something else, in- 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


65 


definable, chilling, deadly, took its 
place in her soul. She, too, stood 
up, and in silence they surveyed a 
far-distant and sleeping cow. 

^‘You see, Lilian,’’ Saville stam- 
mered at last. 

‘‘ I see it all clearly,” she replied. 

I only wonder why I did not see 
it before. It would be the greatest 
mistake in the world for us to 
marry ! ” 

This remark cut him to the heart : 
he flushed, his whole aspect suf- 
fered. 

'‘No woman,” he said, “could 
say such a thing to a man she loved. 
You cannot care for me.” 

“I do indeed care for you, 
Saville,” she said, “please believe 
me.” 

Rookes, happily, did not need 
much persuasion to convince him. 
“This world is a beastly place,” he 
burst forth. “It has everything to 
5 


66 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


make one happy except happiness. 
Look at us ! We are young, we 
love each other, we have the same 
tastes, and we are in the same set. 
How we could enjoy life ! But we 
cannot afford it. 

‘Ht is hard,” said Lilian, ‘'ter- 
ribly hard. I daresay, though, that 
is all for the best.” 

“ I must go away,” said Saville : 
“ I see too much of you ; it is too 
tantalizing ! But hush ! here comes 
Felicia. ” 

“ How well you know her step ! 
exclaimed Lilian. 




III. 

ELICIA GORM was a young 
girl about seventeen, with 
large blue eyes, small regular 
features, and rosy cheeks ; to- 
day she was even rosier than usual. 

'‘Mamma would be so grateful 
if you would talk to Mr. Van Huys- 
ter, ’’ she said to Saville ; “he is 
asking so many questions about 
England, and no one can answer 
him." 

When Rookes had left them, 
Felicia tried to look disinterested. 
“ Have you ever noticed," she said, 
“how easily he blushes. ... It 



68 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


does not mean anything — although 
Mama says that men only blush 
nowadays to be mistaken for Chris- 
tians ! I am sure that is not the 
case with Captain Rookes. . . . Do 
you like him ? 

^‘We are half-cousins ! 

The young girl sat down by her 
side. '‘Dear Lady Mallinger/' she 
said, "I am dreadfully unhappy. 
But I am so fond of you ; I am sure 
you will help me. 

“Indeed, I will. What is troub- 
ling you ? ” 

"Where shall I begin.? Mama 
sent for me this morning. I felt it 
was to be a serious conversation 
because she wore her coronet 
brooch. She told me that if Mr. 
Wiche asked me to marry him, I 
was to say yes. Think of it ! It 
seems they have arranged it all 
between them ; they think he is 
growing too democratic, and now 


A BUNDLE L.' 


69 


he has refused a Baronetcy he has 
become more popular than ever. 
They say it would be such an ex- 
cellent thing if he married a Peers 
daughter, and Mama says I must 
sacrifice myself for the sake of the 
country. l am sure that marriage 
into our family will not change his 
opinion of the House of Lords ! I 
have no influence with him, but 
Mama says I must try to have 
one ; that he must be very fond of 
me or he would not stay here. 
Every one knows that he detests 
visiting as a rule. I believe he is 
in love with you^ but Mama says 
that is an absurd idea, because he 
knew you before you married Lord 
jMallinger, and he is not the kind of 
man who would fancy your style 
of beauty in a wife. He is always 
staring at you at any rate. Then I 
said he seemed great friends with 
Teresa ; but then, as Mama says, 


70 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


dear Teresa is almost ugly, and if 
he had intended to marry her for 
her money, he would have done so 
long ago ! So I suppose I must be 
the one after all, and in the end I 
shall have to accept him. But — 
but I shall always love Saville 
best ! '' 

Saville ? ” exclaimed Lady Mal- 
linger, in astonishment. ‘‘ Sav- 
ille.?" 

''If you knew him as I do, you 
would not wonder that I love him," 
said Felicia, blushing deeply, "he 
is so chivalrous, so noble, so un- 
selfish, just like King Arthur in 
Lord Tennyson. And to hear him 
speak of women ! He thinks we 
are all angels. I am so afraid, 
dear Lady Mallinger, lest he may 
be disappointed in us, because we 
are not all angels, are we ? " 

Lady Mallinger all this time had 
kept her eyes on the ground, and, 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


71 


but for her gentle breathing, be- 
trayed no signs of animation. At 
the girbs question, however, she 
stirred. 

''Has Saville told you — has he 
said — has he spoken ? ” 

"He knows that I love him,’’ 
said Felicia, faintly. 

" But has he asked you to be his 
wife ? ” 

"Not in so many words, but 
words are not everything. He is 
not rich ; he is afraid people might 
say — you know what they always 
say. Once he told me he wished I 
had no money — that I was poor 
and unknown. Oh, I understand 
him so well.” 

"I am sure your family would 
not care for the match,” said Lilian, 
at last ; "and evidently they have 
set their hearts on Wiche. Wiche 
is rather odd, but I was only think- 
ing last night what a fine face he 


72 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


has : he would make you a kind 
husband, and you would be 
quite contented — after a little. '' 
The foolishest of mortals may often 
be startled into a certain sagacity ; 
and Felicia's innocence had the 
effect of rousing Lady Mallinger's 
common-sense which, though un- 
disciplined and kitten-like, was still 
promising. 

^‘No doubt," she continued, look- 
ing gravely at the girls anxious 
face, ‘‘Saville is most agreeable, 
and it is very pleasing to think that 
such a handsome, popular fellow is 
in love with one. But would you 
feel so flattered if he were plain : if 
you heard, for instance, that he 
was fickle, mercenary, and treach- 
erous ! " 

‘‘But I might hear that of Wiche, 
too," said Felicia. “You see, dear 
Lady Mallinger, I must believe in 
some man or I could not marry at 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


73 


all ! And I would rather be deceived 
by Saville than adored by Sidney 
Wiche ! 

*^That is absurd. I should be 
very wrong to encourage you in 
such ideas. When you are older 
you will see how foolish it is to 
indulge in these fancies ! 

am afraid you do not like 
Saville/’ said Felicia, suddenly. 

'' My dear little girl,'’ said Lilian, 
with great dignity, it is only 
because I am Saville's friend that I 
understand your point of view ! " 
*^Then why are you so angry 
with me for loving him ? I am sure 
you would not care for any one who 
was not noble and generous — you 
would not be his friend if he did not 
have fine qualities ! " 

Conversation between a disillu- 
sioned devotee and an enthusiastic 
novice is always difficult : the dis- 
illusioned fears to be candid, and the 


74 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


enthusiast fears nothing ; one has 
not learnt enough, the other has all 
to learn. This, then, was the situ- 
ation of Lady Mallinger and Felicia. 
To one, Saville seemed a traitor; 
to the other, he was a being with 
neither body, soul, nor passions — a 
portable ideal who, at his sublimest, 
murmured, ‘‘ I love you ! Rookes 
was, as a matter of fact, a mortal 
whose good intentions and generous 
admiration for the admirable were 
not steady enough to carry the load 
of a fashionable education, nor 
robust enough to endure the nip- 
ping cruelty of society small talk. 
He feared his better instincts as the 
pious do their besetting sins, and 
when he was surprised into one of 
his natural virtues, his first precau- 
tion was to make it appear a polite 
vice. 

I will not say one word against 
Saville,’' said Lady Mallinger, at 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


75 


last. ''I would rather not discuss 
him. In any case I can only im- 
plore you to obey your relatives : 
after all they must know best.'' 

Then, "said Felicia, '‘it would 
be useless to ask you to help me." 

“What can I do " asked Lady 
Mallinger ; “what is there that I 
could do ? " 

“ Well," said Felicia, “ you see I 
am not yet engaged to Mr. Wiche. 
If he could only be made not to pro- 
pose, everything would come right. 
Dear Lady Mallinger, if you would 
only distract his attention : you are 
so much prettier than I am, and I 
am sure he would be far more 
influenced by you than he ever 
could be by me. Oh, please prom- 
ise me that you will try." 

This suggestion was not without 
its charm. Lilian had a certain lik- 
ing for Wiche : he appealed to her 
head rather than to her imagination, 


76 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


to her sympathies rather than to her 
senses : and, though he did not in- 
spire her with poetic thoughts, he 
made the prose of her existence 
seem less like prose. 

‘‘Perhaps there would be no 
harm,” she said, “and yet ” 

“Oh, do promise,” said Felicia, 
“my life and soul are bound up in 
it.” 

“One can tie a great many knots 
in one’s life and soul,” said Lady 
Mallinger. 

“But love is so mysterious — so 
wonderful. It is the music of the 
world. ” 

“It is a pity that it goes so often 
out of tune ! ” said Lilian. “ Oh,” 
she added suddenly, “ our life is on 
so small a scale : everything seems 
so pretty ! Are women only born 
to fall in love with men like Saville 
Rookes.? Why do we do these 
things ? 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


11 


‘‘Because there is nothing- else 
for us to do, I suppose,'' said 
Felicia. 

“But think of all these clever 
women who paint pictures, and 
make speeches, and write for the 
papers, and sing, and act, and play. 
Ah, how grand it must be to have 
something serious to think of! " 

“I believe they get very tired of 
it,'’ said Felicia. “I am sure they 
are not half so happy as we are. " 

“ Are we happy } " said Lilian. 

“Of course we are," replied the 
young girl. ‘ ‘ What a strange ques- 
tion ! '’ 

“Perhaps it is strange. I feel 
tired." 

‘ ‘ And you look pale, " said Felicia. 
“Let me fetch you my scent-bottle." 
She ran lightly across the lawn and 
up the Terrace steps without per- 
ceiving Saville who was returning 
from another direction. 


78 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


He came close to Lady Mallinger 
and looked into her face. 

“You do not look well/' he said. 

“ I am well enough.” 

“Did that poor little thing bore 
you ? ” 

“Not at all.” 

“Why are you so curt ? ” 

“Am I.?” 

“ Have I offended you ? ” 

“Oh, no,” said Lady Mallinger. 
“But you know quite well what 
Felicia has been talking about. 
You have acted abominably.” 

“What have I done.?” asked 
Rookes. “Is it a crime to pay a 
few silly compliments to a child ? 
She is hardly more. You are surely 
not jealous.? You know you are 
the only woman I really care for. 
A man may love various women 
for various reasons at all times of 
his life, but he can only love once, 
one way. Each experience is to- 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


79 


tally different, and absolutely new ; 
only one, however, can be quite 
satisfactory. Now to love you is 
my second nature ; it is part of my 
constitution. If you do not trust 
me, why did you encourage me ? ” 
'^Why.?’' said Lady Mallinger, 
with flashing eyes. ^‘Why? Do 
you ask me why ? 1 will not lie to 

you. I loved you because I thought 
you loved me — because I felt that 
you would help me, jyou, who were 
so much stronger, so much nobler, 
so much braver than I. When you 
said . . . when you seemed to think 
I had some beauty, I longed to be 
the most beautiful of all women, 
that you might be proud of me : I 
longed to be royal that I might 
throw aside my royalty and show 
the world that I would rather be 
ruled by you than rule a kingdom : 
I wanted a palace that I might leave 
it and follow you into darkness and 


8o 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


poverty : I wished that we lived in 
times of danger that I might save 
you from death, that I might lie for 
you, hate for you, steal for you, die 
for you ! How I have loved you ! 
how have you deceived me ! I have 
nothing left but contempt for both 
of us. . . . Stay there I '' 

She walked away alone, and as 
he felt too ashamed to follow her 
footsteps, he chose another path, 
and was therefore late for luncheon. 
A fact which showed the injured 
woman that her words had played 
some havoc with his conscience. 




IV. 

IR VENTRY had been trying 
since noon to exchange a 
few words of immense im- 
portance with his sister. At 
last, in the drawing-room after 
luncheon, he found the moment. 
Teresa was playing the piano : Van 
Huyster and Felicia were within 
sight on the lawn. Lady Mallinger 
was cooing to some love-birds in a 
gilt cage which hung near the win- 
dow. Lady Twacorbie sat at a little 
distance from the others, embroider- 
ing an altar-cloth. She was a being- 
about five-and-thirty, dressed with 

6 8i 




82 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


elegance, but with no attempt at 
individuality. No doubt eleven out 
of every dozen women in her own 
station were wearing gowns of the 
same hue, make, and texture. Her 
hair was flaxen and arranged in the 
artificial, half-grotesque style com- 
manded by Court hair-dressers : at 
a first glance she looked like a wax 
doll — the unchanging expression, 
the neat, set features, the unseeing 
eyes, had not the divine impress. 
Yet she lived and was a woman : 
without her false curls, her whale- 
bones, and her stare, she was even 
beautiful : in unguarded moments, 
she was witty. She was not 
accomplished, however, and had no 
force of will : the winds of opinion 
blew her feather-like round the four 
corners of her boudoir. But in her 
way she was perfectly happy : she 
sighed for no new experiences and 

wept over no old ones : life pre- 

6 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


^3 


seated no enigmas, and, feeling 
neither sorrow nor wonder, she had 
no need of philosophy. She read 
nothing, but was extraordinarily 
observant, and had a most tenacious 
memory for little things. For 
instance, she could quote whole 
conversations, and describe to a 
half-turn just how this one entered 
a room, that one shook hands, and 
the other sat down : she delighted 
afternoon callers by remembering 
how each liked his or her tea — A. 
never took sugar, B. liked three 
large lumps or four small ones, C. 
only drank hot water, D. could not 
bear the sight of cream, and so 
on. This was the lighter side of 
her character : she had a certain 
amount of sentiment, and would 
have made a devoted wife and 
mother of the primitive type. But 
the creatures of her world were 
bored by devotion, so she flirted in 


84 


A BUNDLE OE LIFE. 


the most religious manner possible, 
and had an Infants' Bible-Class. 

‘‘My dear Charlotte," said Sir 
Ventry, “has it never occurred to 
you that Van Huyster is deeply 
interested in Felicia ? I have ob- 
served it for days." 

“You are always making un- 
necessary discoveries," replied his 
sister. “ You know my plans with 
regard to Felicia. Wiche will cer- 
tainly speak to her either to-day or 
to-morrow. " 

“Van Huyster is a far more 
desirable match ; he is not only 
richer, but more tractable," said Sir 
Ventry. “If he were to speak 
first " 

“As you say," murmured her 
ladyship, “he is enormously rich." 

“Precisely: that is my point. 
And he goes everywhere." 

“ But then Wiche is such a power 
in politics,” said Lady Twacorbie ; 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


85 


think what good we could do by 
our influence over him ! '' 

The country would be far more 
grateful/’ said Sir Ventry, '‘if we 
helped Van Huyster to spend his 
rnoney in a gentlemanly manner. 
However, it is your affair not mine. 
I have made a suggestion : act on 
it or not, as you please,” and he 
strutted magnificently from her 
presence. 

For some moments Lady Twacor- 
bie did not ply her needle, but un- 
picked the stitches she had takec 
during the preceding conversation. 
At last she called Lilian. " Come 
and talk to me, my dear,” she said ; 
" I have not had a word with you 
since breakfast. You see I drove 
Harold to the station ” — (Lord 
Twacorbie had gone to town for a 
few days) — " He was so sorry to 
leave us.” She glanced at Van 
Huyster and Felicia who passed the 


86 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE 


window. We are so anxious 
about Felicia/’ she said ; young 
girls are so flighty — is it reasonable 
to suppose that they are competent 
to select the right sort of man ? 
Ah, if women would only choose 
their husbands as carefully as they 
do their bonnets, how much brighter 
life would be ! 

But, my dear Lady Twacorbie, 
what would you call the right sort 
of husband ? ” 

'' A man,'’ she replied, with 
means, position, a good digestion, 
and sound principles : such a per- 
son, for instance, as this excellent, 
kind-hearted, and deserving Van 
Huyster ! " 

Van Huyster ! ” said Lady Mai- 
linger, in surprise. 

‘‘Yes. Have you observed how 
extremely attentive he is to Fe- 
licia " 

“ Perhaps I have, now you speak 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


87 


of it/’ said Lilian, ‘‘ but I thought 
Mr. Wiche ” 

^‘Ah!” said Lady Twacorbie, 

Mr. Wiche is all very well in his 
proper place. I have the greatest 
respect for his undeniable merits. 

I hope, however — I earnestly hope 
that he will not do anything rash. 
In fact, I may as well confess that 
I am in a difficulty. As Harold was 
obliged to go to town to-day, and 
as Ventry is not well, I asked Mr. 
Wiche if he would escort Felicia and 
myself to the Bishop s Bazaar this 
afternoon. I see now that it might 
cause gossip in the neighborhood : 
people make such absurd remarks. 
Besides, I fear it is scarcely kind to 
throw the poor man so frequently 
in the dear child’s society. Do you 
think you could keep him amused 
in some way until we have left the 
house:, we can pretend that there 
was some blunder and perhaps take 


88 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


Mr. Van Huyster. . . . These things 
are difficult to explain.'' 

“ I think I understand, "said Lady 
Mallinger : “of course, I will do 
anything to make myself useful. 
But 1 must at least change my 
gown : I heard him say that he 
liked my blue muslin ! '* She went 
out laughing so gaily, that Teresa, 
who was playing mournful music, 
left the piano and came down to her 
cousin. 

“ What is the joke ? " she asked. 

Lady Twacorbie did not hesitate 
over her reply. She had made up 
her mind that Teresa was dying of 
love for the elegant Ventry and 
would therefore have no interest in 
the matrimonal schemes with regard 
to Sidney Wiche. 

“ Ventry has convinced me with 
regard to Van Huyster and Felicia," 
she said, at once. “ Obstinacy is 
not one of my faults, and I am 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


89 


never deaf to reason. I have 
arranged everything in the most 
charming way : Lilian has agreed 
to distract Mr. Wiche’s attention. 
Of course, dear, I would have asked 
you, but you are much too clever ! 
One can only trust a fool to carry 
out a plot of this kind with success. 
She is such a simpleton — just the 
silly creature to hoodwink a man of 
genius ! ” 

‘‘ Oh, this is too much ! said 
Teresa. I assure you a more ac- 
complished actress never lived. 
She is far cleverer than either of us. ” 

“ Absurd ! Impossible ! ’’ said 
Lady Twacorbie. 

‘‘ There is nothing easier than the 
impossible — for Lady Mallinger. 
But I am sure that Sidney will see 
through her nonsense at once ; you 
must remember that he is my friend 
and I have known him for years : 
your plan will not succeed."' 


90 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


But he admires her extremely/’ 
said Lady Twacorbie. 

Has he ever told you so ? ” 

'' Of course not : it is because he 
has never said so, that I am certain 
of it. Men are dreadfully discreet, 
my dear Teresa. I only believe in 
what they do not say. But come, 
we must leave the coast clear^ 
come ! ” 

Teresa followed her slowly. 




V. 

ADY MALLINGER reentered 
1 1 the room a few moments 
^ later, in all her bravery of 
blue muslin, ribbons, and lace. 
She was cooing to the love-birds 
when Wiche came in. His acquaint- 
ance with Lady Mallinger had ex- 
tended over some four years : from 
her point of view it might have been 
called a dinner-party friendship — 
that is to say, they could discuss 
people and subjects of the hour with 
a freedom which passes well enough 
for intimacy in the vagueness, 
bustle, and gigantic pettiness of a 
London season. But to Wiche 

91 



92 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


their occasional meetings and in- 
terchange of ideas had meant much 
more ; the man of letters is not a 
man of letters if he accepts life and 
the circumstances of life as they 
appear at first sight — it is the prime 
instinct of his nature to reject what 
seems and to clutch — or die in fail- 
ing to clutch — things not as they 
are, but as his imagination would 
have them. To be brief, our friend 
had fallen in love with the idea of 
loving Lady Mallinger. 

I disturb you he said, 
and took a seat near her. She 
smiled at him and made a charming 
grimace at her pets. 

^ ‘ There is a bazaar at the Bishop s 
this afternoon,*' he continued, ‘‘and 
I believe I was expected to go, but 
as Van Huyster enjoys these things 
and I do not, I have asked Lady 
Twacorbie to take him in my stead. 
I hope she will not be offended, but 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


93 


I really wanted to get a quiet hour 
with you.'' 

Her heart jumped and she studied 
him with a new interest. There is 
one glory of the friend, and another 
glory of the possible lover. For 
the first time she discovered that he 
had a certain intensity, a masterful 
air, a look of determination — all of 
which she admired. 

‘‘We have so few opportunities to 
speak to each other," he said. 

“You have changed since I first 
knew you," cried Lady Mallinger : 
“ we were such good friends once, 
and now — when we meet — I hardly 
know how to describe it — there is a 
coldness, a restraint. I have feared 
that you did not like me. But I am 
saying too much." 

“If I told you that there was 
indeed a reason for my restraint, 
would you care?" 

She put her lips to the cage and 


94 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


piped, apparently to the birds — 
‘‘Tell me the reason ! '' 

“Have you never guessed it? 
was I so hard to understand ? 

“ I could never understand any 
man, but then a man never seems 
able to explain himself, does he ? 

“It may be that he dare not try, ” 
said Wiche. 

“What could he fear?” she 
asked ; “ can it be that men know 
how unstable they are ? I always 
thought they could not, because 
they never try to be firmer. And I 
love firmness ! Now we women 
know only too well that we are 
very weak, very foolish, very shal- 
low, and we wonder what men can 
see in us ! We must be so tiresome ! 
such burdens ! such unnecessary 
evils ! such tedious, provoking crea- 
tures ! Some of us may have some 
beauty ; yet that soon goes, and 
then there is nothing left of us but 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


95 


a headache I Oh, do not look sur- 
prised : I fear I am growing cynical. 
I am beginning to agree with many 
of your views on the soul, and 
death, and marriage, and things of 
that order ! 

^‘Ah! never trust a man’s opin- 
ion on any subject until he has been 
in love,” said Wiche. Love is the 
only thing which can make life as 
clear as noon-day.” 

“Then I suppose you still find it 
dark and perplexing ! Dear me ! 
how idly I talk. I meant to say — 
but would it be impertinent ? I was 
only thinking that a day, an hour, 
perhaps a few words might make 
all the difference in your ideas ! ” 

“If I told you,” said Wiche, 
“that sleeping and waking I 
heard but one voice, saw but one 
face. ” 

“Does it bore you ? ” she asked ; 
“would you rather not see it ? ” 


90 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


‘‘Each day/’ he continued, “it 
grows dearer to me, more beautiful, 
more — ah ! if I waited until I were 
more eloquent I would never speak, 
never tell you my one hope, my one 
aim, my one ambition — above all 
things, beyond all things, before all 
things. Just — to gain you ; to gain 
you— just that. I would not own 
it was impossible, I only saw you, 
loved you and waited. You passed 
me by, you hardly knew me. I 
was only one in a crowded world. 
A friend.? Yes, when you remem- 
bered me. Was that often ? Some- 
times we talked together : once I 
wrapped you in your opera cloak, 
have you forgotten ? I touched 
your cheek — it was an accident.’’ 

“As you say,” murmured Lilian, 
“it only happened once.” 

“Another time you leant for a 
moment on my arm.” 

“That was a year ago.” 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


97 


“In March/' he said, “it was a 
perfect night." 

“ Oh, no ! it rained." 

“A perfect night," he repeated, 
moving nearer, “and you never 
guessed how much I loved you — 
how much you were to me, how 
much I loved you ! How beauti- 
ful, how very beautiful " He 

kissed her. 

Lady Mallinger started away in a 
sudden panic. “I did not mean to 
say so much, " she said. ^ ' I did not 
mean — but hark ! " She put her 
finger to her lips and flew across 
the room into a large chair with 
wide arms. These concealed her 
from Teresa Warcop who now en- 
tered. She was evidently much 
agitated in spite of her quiet man- 
ner. “I am so glad to find you 
alone, " she said to Wiche, ‘ ^ because 
I must speak to you. But first let 
me say, in justice to myself, that I 


98 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


am not a mischief-maker. If I ever 
seem meddlesome it is only because 
I am so interested in my friends 
that I cannot remain silent when 
speech would be of service to 
them.'' 

‘"You have too much heart, "said 
Wiche. 

“I cannot bear to see a man de- 
ceived, trifled with, made a jest for 
chattering vixens ! " said Teresa, 
passionately. 

“ The worst of it is that he rarely 
shows gratitude if one endeavors to 
enlighten him." 

“A thankless task, I know," said 
Teresa ; “ but if we only do our duty 
for the sake of being thanked we are 
miserable creatures. . . O Sidney ! 
never trust a woman ! At least, 
never trust blue eyes ! Oh ! when 
I think of it, I lose all patience, 
almost all charity. That such a 
man should be duped by such a 

7 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


99 


woman ! Woman, did I say.? No, 
a mere bundle of fire and frivolity ! ” 

‘‘How much more promising 
than mere flesh and blood/' ex- 
claimed Wiche. 

“ She made a bargain/’ said Te- 
resa, “a kind of wager — that she 
would force you into a flirtation. 
And she thinks she is succeeding : 
she even began her machinations at 
luncheon. I saw it all : her looks, 
laughs, sighs. Oh, it was insup- 
portable ! ” 

“Are you speaking of poor little 
Felicia ? " said Wiche. 

“Felicia?" said Teresa. “Feli- 
cia? When I speak of a creature 
with neither heart, morals, mind, 
nor beauty — a heap of lies, vanity 
and affectation — I mean Lady Mal- 
linger. " 

Wiche grew so pale that Teresa — - 
half with jealousy and half with 
fright — grew even paler. She 


lOO 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


held out both her trembling hands 
and stumbled blindly towards 
him. 

‘‘My heart has been with you/' 
she stammered. ‘‘ I feel it all, see 
it all, know it all." 

What she meant she hardly knew. 
He neither looked nor uttered a 
reply ; but, brushing past her with 
a gesture hard to translate, walked 
to the window. A stillness almost 
like some grim and living presence 
filled the room. Teresa remained 
in her rigid attitude, staring, with 
despairing tenderness, not at the 
man, but at the place where he had 
stood. 

“A wager! a bargain!" said 
Wiche, at last. “I do not under- 
stand. " 

‘‘Nor did I when I first heard 
it," said Teresa. “ I could scarcely 
believe anything so odious, even of 
her. And I have heard a good 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


lO I 


many stories, too ! But Charlotte 
explained the matter only too 
clearly. Lilian was to distract you. 
That was the expression : her own 
words. She paused a moment. 
Wiche never stirred, but kept one 
unchanging expression, which be- 
trayed nothing save its unchange- 
ableness. Have I been wrong to 
tell you ” she went on; ‘‘have I 
been wrong.? But friendship, my 
sense of justice, and you — the 
noblest man I know, the one above 
all others I — I respect.” 

“I do not understand you — or 
her,” said Wiche, at last. 

“My dear friend, men only un- 
derstand the kind of woman who is 
more masculine than a man ! . . . 
But, Sidney, are you vexed with 
me ? Have I been too zealous ? 
You know, you surely believe I 
meant no malice.? Yet I cannot 
say that I feel any kindness for 


102 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


Lady Mallinger ; that would be im- 
possible. I despise her ! 

Is that necessary ? ” said Wiche. 

^‘Can I forgive her conduct to- 
wards yourself ? Not that she has 
succeeded in fooling you. But the 
attempt — I cannot forgive the at- 
tempt. What impudence ! what 
presumption ! '' 

‘‘Ah, there you are unjust ! The 
feat was well within her power : I 
was only too willing to be fooled. 

“Willing!’' cried Teresa. 

‘ ‘ Where is your spirit ? How weak 
a man is after all 1 What a mercy 
that she cannot hear you : it would 
make her even vainer than she is 
by nature.” 

“I fear we are growing too old 
and prosaic,” said Wiche, bitterly ; 
“no wonder these young people 
try to rouse us.” 

‘ ‘ Sidney ! . . . Do I seern so 
old ? 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


103 


one would guess your age,” 
he said, without looking at her. 

‘^Unfortunately, you know it!” 
said Teresa. “Would you have 
forgiven 7?ie, if I had made such a 
bargain as this other woman I 
think not.” 

Wiche did not hear the remark, 
or if he did, he made no reply. 

She swallowed a sob and left the 
room. 



VI. 


ADY MALLINGER came for- 
ward half-crying, half-defiant. 
''I cannot, I will not be- 
^ lieve one word Teresa has 
said!^* exclaimed Wiche. “She is 
the most honest soul in the world, 
but she makes mistakes.’^ 

“You would be wiser,'' said 
Lilian, slowly, “if you believed 
her.” 


“So you admit it,” he said 
“ Do you think that Love is a play- 
thing ? a mood for a dull afternoon ? 
a fmme of mind to jump in and out 

of just for amusement ? Is it noth- 
104 



A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


105 


ing to stake your life on another's, 
to be faithful when they are faith- 
less, strong when they are weak.-^ 
Is it so little to love like this ? Do 
you think it is so easy.? Do you 
think it brings much happiness ? ” 
Until that hour, the devotion he 
had felt for Lady Mallinger was 
of that unreal kind which is only 
dangerous so long as its object re- 
mains an idea. It was to a great 
extent theoretic, and based on the 
dogmas of erotic poetry : in her 
image he loved a dozen heroines — 
not one woman. Now that he had 
kissed her, however, and she had 
shown herself sufficiently human 
to rouse his anger, the whole rela- 
tion changed. He no longer saw 
her through the mist of sentimental 
fancy ; she was simply a pretty 
woman who attracted him. He 
felt vaguely that she might tempt 
him to say and do much which he 


io6 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


would surely repent of. He re- 
peated again, Do you think such 
love brings much happiness ? 

‘‘Ah! if you only knew me as 
I know myself,'' murmured Lady 
Mallinger. “All that Teresa said 
of me was true — and yet, not true 
enough. Everything about me was 
falsehood and pretence, until — until 
you seemed to believe in me. Do 
you understand ? Can you not see ? 
Are you so unforgiving, or — are you 
only blind.? Why are you so 
silent ? " 

She held out her hand, which he 
took half eagerly and half in dread : 
her lightest touch seemed so much 
more satisfying than all the wisdom 
of the ancients. 

“If I could only remain silent," 
said Wiche, passionately; “if I 
could only keep you — only feel that 
you were mine — mine — mine at all 
risks ! Yet no — you act too well. 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


107 


I could never know how much I 
was mistaken.’' 

"‘Why should we refuse the 
happiness this hour gives us, be- 
cause some other hour might take 
it away } In the meantime, there 
can be no better thing than this. 
No one before has ever cared 
whether I was in jest or earnest,” 
she faltered; “every other man 
takes it for granted that I am heart- 
less, brainless, and soulless in any 
case. When I am serious, they say 
I am in low spirits ; when I am 
sincere, they praise my hypocrisy. 
So I take refuge in deceit, and I 
succeed so well that now I have 
deceived myself, and I no longer 
know what I mean, what I want, 
what I think, or what I am! To 
judge me fairly, you should have 
lived my life. My father was not 
kind ; at eighteen I married. The 
world liked my husband : he ate 


io8 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


too much, drank too much, and made 
too merry with other people’s lives. 
No one knows what I have suffered. 
I have only found one thing which 
outweighs disappointment — bitter- 
ness — all — all that is harsh, heavy 
to bear, and terrible. That moment 
— that one moment when you trusted 
me. ... It was so unexpected. I 
had always liked you as a friend ; but 
you seemed so far away, and I 
thought you could only have con- 
tempt for me and my vain, hopeless 
life. And the end of it all.? Do 
you suppose I never think of that.? 
Every night I say to myself, ‘ An- 
other day has gone ; another day of 
false hopes, false friends, false 
loves, false hates, false griefs ! ’ 
Think of it ! Not even a real grief : 
my life, myself, all — all a sham ! ” 
Help me to be as honest as you 
are,” said Wiche : ^‘is there not 
eternity before us .? the longest past 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. IO9 

is but a second in comparison. 
See!'' he said, kissing her, ‘^we 
have forgotten it already ! " 

Men may still find oblivion in a 
kiss, but women of fashion are 
always — or nearly always — too self- 
conscious to forget the artificialities 
of life in the verities of passion. 

‘‘Forgotten already.?" repeated 
Lady Mallinger, moving away from 
him, “I wish it were. Do not be 
angry with me, but I must be alone 
a little. There are so many things 
to think about — so many things. 
Give me half-an-hour. " 

“ So much ? " said her lover. 

“ Have we not eternity before 
us ? " she replied. 

Wiche laughed, kissed both her 
hands, and went out on to the Ter- 
race : he found it almost as delight- 
ful to obey her whims as to worship 
her beauty. Only the strong-mind- 
ed can know the extreme pleasure 


1 lO 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


of self-surrender. Wiche's life had 
been so hard, so serious, and, in a 
sense, so wise until this too-en- 
chanting present that he seized its 
madness rather as a reward from 
the gods than a curse. He put all 
thought of the future from his mind 
— not because he feared it, but be- 
cause it possessed no attraction for 
him. Lady Mallinger was an inex- 
haustible delight : egoism, which in 
any other woman seemed intoler- 
able was, in her case, the most 
charming thing in the world : self- 
ishness, he argued, where the self 
was so perfectly bewitching even 
amounted to a duty : dull, tedious, 
and unpleasant beings did well to 
lose sight of themselves, but for 
Lilian to forget herself would be 
like a flower forgetting to bloom. 

When Wiche had gone Lilian 
paced the floor and mistook this 
bodily exercise for deep thought. 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE, 


II r 

She was brought to a standstill by 
finding herself face to face with 
Teresa, who, not being able to quiet 
her soul, had returned in the hope 
of seeing Wiche once more. 

‘‘You look depressed,'' she said 
to Lady Mallinger : “at luncheon 
you were all vivacity, epigram, and 
paradox. If you had not told me I 
should never have suspected that 
you considered it your vocation to 
play the fool ! " 

“ Ah, I am much wiser since our 
conversation this morning," said 
Lady Mallinger. “ I am sure that 
the supreme happiness of a woman's 
life is to devote herself to the man 
who loves her : to be his friend, his 
ideal, his good angel ! " 

Teresa smiled bitterly. “And 
the supreme difficulty of a woman's 
life," she said, “is to find the man 
who desires such devotion, who has 
an ideal, who wants a good angel ! 


I 12 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


The best of men only ask us to be 
forever young and forever pretty : 
let your conscience go to the dogs 
but keep your freshness. Virtue 
never yet atoned for wrinkles ! '' 

“There I cannot agree with you/' 
said Lady Mallinger. am sure 
that there is nothing so fascinat- 
ing as sincerity ! It is so uncom- 
mon. I am going to be the most 
sincere woman in the world and I 
must begin by telling you that I 
was present just now during your 
conversation with Mr. Wiche. " 

What conversation } ” said 
Teresa. 

^‘Let us both be sincere, dear 
Miss Warcop ! I was sitting in 
that green chair when you men- 
tioned my name, my first impulse 
was to rush forward : curiosity, 
however, intervened, and I remain- 
ed in my corner. Perhaps this was 
wrong, but my position was diffi- 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. II3 

cult : to begin with, I agreed per- 
fectly with every word you said : 
you were only too charitable. I 
assured Mr. Wiche of this after- 
wards, but he would not believe 
me. When I told him that I had 
indeed neither mind, morals, heart, 
nor beauty, he looked so incredu- 
lous, and was so deaf to all argu- 
ment that I despair of convincing 
him ! Men are so prejudiced. 
What would you advise me to 
do.?^^ 

This sarcasm does not cut ! 

^‘Sarcasm!’' cried Lilian, 
was never more candid, more 
natural, more absolutely trans- 
parent in my life. Why should I 
dissemble when I have found that 
you know me even better than I 
know myself.?’' 

This innocent air may deceive 
some infatuated man — for a time,” 

said Teresa, ‘'but I understand it 

8 


II4 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


too well. How can you dare to 
look so amiable when you know 
that you hate me. . . . You 

must hate me. 

‘‘Not at all : I think you are in- 
discreet and perhaps too impulsive, 
but, on the whole, I admire your 
character : it has a stability, a dog- 
gedness, a courage which mine 
lacks. I would never have the 
audacity, for instance, to discuss 
your faults with Sir Ventry. He 
would, I hope, be quite as blind 
with regard to you as my future 
husband is where I am concerned."' 

“Your future husband.?" said 
Teresa. 

“Yes," said Lady Mallinger. 
“Sidney was foolish enough to ask 
me to be his wife — at least, in so 
many words — and I was wise 
enough to accept him ! If he will 
only trust me and believe in me 
always — if he will only see me — 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


115 

not as I am, but as I should be — I 
am sure we shall be happy ! '' 

‘‘It is not hard to be good when 
you have love and sympathy and 
encouragement, ''said Teresa, warm- 
ly, “but to be good when not one 
soul cares whether you live or die, 
when your kindest thoughts, your 
least selfish acts, your dearest sac- 
rifices are treated alike with insult, 
cruelty, and contempt — to be good 
then, that is the great achievement. 
Stand alone, be indifferent to smiles 
and frowns, keep your eyes steadily 
fixed on one unattainable ideal and 
condemn in yourself all that falls 
short of it, do that and I will call 
you happy ! Defy slander, defy 
the malice of evil tongues and false 
hearts, defy even one rule of 
etiquette ! " 

“No woman has anything to fear 
except the truth," said Lady Mal- 
linger, “so long as the truth will 


I 1 6 A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 

bear telling, she can laugh at lies. 
They may for a time work mischief, 
but only for a time.'' 

‘‘I, too, could have such a faith 
in the triumph of virtue if I had such 
a lover as Sidney ! " said Teresa, 
‘'but live my life for a month and 
then tell me your philosophy ! " 

“You look cold," murmured 
Lilian, after a shiver and a slight 
pause. 

“ Cold ! I am always cold : feel 
my hand." 

Lady Mallinger held it to her own 
pink cheeks. “You make me like 
you," she said. “As a rule I do not 
care for women, and you are almost 
as spiteful as the rest. But there is 
something about you. . . . You 

believe me, when I say I like 
you 1 " 

“Yet you have robbed me of my 
one friend," cried Teresa, “you — 
you who have so much already. 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


IT7 

You are young and he thinks you 
are beautiful : I shall soon be old 
and I was always plain : many men 
have loved my money, but no one 
has ever loved me. In the Convent 
— I was brought up in a Convent — 
the sisters taught me how to live in 
Heaven : they forgot I had to get 
through the world first My parents 
are dead and now I have nothing in 
this life except my wretched, hope- 
less interest in a man who has 
never given me a thought Per- 
haps I need not say that He is 
the only man I know who has not 
asked me to marry him, so I think 
he must like me a little. And he 
comes to see me very often. But 
you only care for him because he 
flatters you, you are proud of him 
because he is distinguished, but I 
was proud of him when he was 
poor and obscure, when every one 
thought him an outcast, when it 


ii8 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


was almost a crime in our miserable 
little corner of society to be seen 
even bowing to him. You do not 
understand him as I do : you can- 
not help him as I could : you play 
on all his weaknesses : every hour 
he spends with you will be a step 
backwards. Oh ! he is no hero in 
my eyes, no passionless, faultless 
machine, but a Man. . . . Go ! tell 
him all I have said, laugh at me, 
pity me, say ‘ Poor woman ! That 
so plain and dull a creature should 
fall in love ! How pathetic ! how 
ridiculous ! ’ ” 

Before Lilian could reply, Teresa 
rushed out of the room. Lady 
Mallinger rubbed her eyes : she, 
too, had once loved like this and 
she had been deceived. The mere 
remembrance of Saville drove all 
other thoughts from her mind : she 
forgot Wiche, she forgot Teresa, she 
forgot everything — the universe 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


II9 

contained but two beings — herself 
and Rookes. Fate brought him to 
her at that critical moment. 

I have been for a stroll with Sir 
Ventry/' he began awkwardly. 

I — I am wretched. Are you still 
angry ? ” 

‘^1 do not think we can have 
anything to say to each other, 
Saville,’' she said; ‘^the last 
words were spoken this morning. 
I could wish they had been kinder : 
I should like to remember that we 
parted, at least as friends. We 
were so much to each other once — 
once we thought it could never 
come to this. . . . Please leave 

me.'' 

‘‘No, I have been longing for a 
chance to speak to you, now I 
have found it, you must listen. I 
will not attempt to defend myself— 
I " 


‘‘You cannot: how could you? 


120 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


You might perhaps say that you 
became desperate about your debts, 
and so — in a sort of madness — 
thought to marry Felicia for her 
money. You might say — ah, a 
thousand things, but they could 
make no difference. It is too late 
to think of them.’' 

‘‘Too late ” said Rookes. “How 
can it be too late when you are 
there and I am here.” He knelt 
down by her side and, custom prov- 
ing too strong for him, kissed her 
cheek. Custom was, perhaps, too 
strong for her also : at all events, 
she made no resistance. “You 
know my faults,” he went on, “you 
could never have loved me for my 
perfection. ” 

“I loved the man you might 
have been,” she murmured, “not 
you at all.” She glanced down and 
found her hand lying in his. “Not 
you at all,” she repeated. “Be- 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


I2I 


sides ... it really is too late. I 


— I have lost the right to listen to 


you. 





% 



VII. 

! N the meantime Wiche’s half- 
hour had come to an end. The 
clock was chiming five when he 
appeared at the drawing-room 
window. Rookes sprang to his 
feet : Lady Mallinger affected to 
laugh. 

‘‘My cousin is teasing me/' she 
said; “he will not let me tell him 
that I am really a very serious 
woman. He — he does not believe 
in me as you do ! " As she spoke 
she touched Wiche s arm as though 
to assert her ownership. Neither 

of the men spoke : a footman 
122 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


123 


entered and announced that tea was 
served on the lawn. 

“ We must go then,” said Lilian. 
She led the way, but when she 
turned, she found that only Wiche 
had followed her. 

‘‘It is as well,’' she said, in her 
prettiest manner ; “ we are happier 
by ourselves ! ” This was no doubt 
charming, and it may have been 
true. Wiche, however, was no less 
troubled by the fact than the possi- 
bility. Both were distracting, for, 
at that moment, he wished to over- 
look her fascination and think only 
of what was certain. And the one 
thing certain was, in his judgment, 
her love for Rookes. This truth — 
like all truths — had flashed upon 
him like a message from his guardian 
angel. 

“Do not look so grave,” said 
Lady Mallinger ; “we have been 
serious the whole afternoon, and 


124 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


now I want to rest ! Do you like 
me in pink? Because I have the 
loveliest pink satin which I am 
dying to wear this evening.” 

“How old are you?” he said, 
suddenly. 

“Oh! My dear, dear Sidney! 
One can see that you have never 
made love before ! How old am I ? 
I forget : I was born so long ago. 
I must be at least twenty-two. Of 
course, I look even more, but then 
my life has been so unhappy. Now 
it will all be different, and perhaps 
I shall grow young again. You 
will be kind to me, will you not? 
And patient ? And you will not ex- 
pect to find me very good, and 
very truthful, and very quiet all at 
once. You will give me time ? 
And you will not often be as cross 
as you are now, will you ? ” At 
length she saw it was useless to ig- 
nore the demon who sat between 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


125 


them. “It was not my fault/' she 
said, “ it really was not my fault. 
I told Saville I had lost the right 
to listen to him. And now you 
are blaming me. It is so hard 
that I must always be made miser- 
able — even when I have made up 
my mind to be contented. I have 
tried my very best," she added, 
“to be happy this afternoon 1 " 
“Was it such an effort.?" said 
Wiche. 

“All — all is an effort," she an- 
swered, “ except folly. That seems 
the only easy, natural, and pleasant 
thing in the world ! " 

' ‘ What do you call folly ? " 

“ Everything I want to do, every- 
thing I want to say, everything I 
care for — that is what I call folly." 

“My dear," said Wiche, “ you 
are in love. And Rookes is the 
man ! " 

“Tut! How little you know 


r 26 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


me ! I admit that I am greatly at- 
tached to Saville — in spite of his 
faults, but then I have known him 
so long ! But in love with him — 
never ! We are the dearest friends 
possible, and quarrel incessantly — 
but that is all ! '' 

‘ ‘ Are you sure ? said Wiche, 

are you sure that is all ? 

She made no answer, but, sooth- 
ing her lace which fluttered a little 
in the breeze, hummed without 
knowing it, 

“ Virtue how frail it is ! 

Friendship how rare ! 

Love, how it sells poor bliss 
For proud despair ! ” 

^‘That,’' said Wiche, gravely, 
''is what Rookes was singing last 
evening. 

"Pity me,'' she murmured. 

' ' Why ? " 

" I adore him ! " 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


127 


While we exist we can never es- 
cape any stage of development ; 
if our infancy be prematurely wise, 
our years of discretion will have an 
inappropriate childishness. Lilian 
was living life backwards, and her 
sudden moods of immaturity which 
may have accounted for Rookes's 
corresponding moods of fickleness, 
filled Wiche with dismay. Passion 
in these circumstances was impos- 
sible : affection became angelic, 
and sentiment lost all question oi 
sex. 

“ I adore Saville,'' she repeated, 
and looked at Wiche with so be- 
seeching an air, with such utter 
helplessness and irresponsibility 
that he wondered how he could 
ever have mistaken her for a 
woman. He still recognized her 
grace and beauty, but it roused in 
him the same kind of emotion a 
man might feel on seeing the child 


128 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


of one he had loved deeply and 
who was dead. It was a sorrowful 
task to trace the resemblance : to 
note the likeness in line, and deli- 
cate tones and expression : to say 
to himself, ‘^Lilian’s mouth had 
that curve, her eyes were that 
color, her throat was as white ? ” 

‘‘You must forget,'' he said, 
“you must forget — if you have not 
already forgotten — all that passed 
this afternoon. It was a great mis- 
take." 

It was a great mistake. Lady 
Mallinger brushed the echo of these 
words from her ear : she would not 
believe that they had ever been 
uttered. “This is what comes," 
she thought, “ of telling a man the 
the truth : he flies ! " 

“You may have made a mis- 
take," she replied, “but I have said 
nothing to you which I could ever 
wish to unsay. Saville told me this 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


129 


morning that men may fall in love 
dozens of times, but that each 
experience is new. They can only 
love once one way. This is true of 
women also. And it all comes to 
this : love is precisely the same 
kind of emotion as religion. Oh, if 
we would only be as patient with 
human nature as God is ! Some 
days we are more devout than 
others : the saint who appeals to 
you in one mood may repel you in 
another : this month we devote our- 
selves to Our Lady, and another to 
St. Paul ; some people, too, mistake 
incense for dogma, and love of 
music for love of virtue. But the 
folly and sensuousness of creatures 
like myself cannot touch the great 
unalterable truths. I may never 
know them as they are, but they 
have been known. You will wonder 
what I am trying to tell you. It is 
hard to say : I believe I mean that 
9 


130 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


my adoration of Saville is not very 
serious ! '' 

Wiche was a man who had learnt 
what he knew of human nature 
through self-discipline and not 
through self-abandon. Knowing 
therefore his own character and its 
possibilities so well, he was 
astonished to find that Lilian's was 
so like — subject, of course, to cer- 
tain feminine modifications. He 
was acquainted with many men 
who could give an accurate appraise- 
ment of each and all their impulses, 
thoughts, and emotions, who were 
such skilled self-analysts that they 
never by any chance confounded 
their soul with their body, or their 
conscience with either. He had 
never met a woman, however, who 
possessed this power even in a slight 
and half-unconscious degree ; he 
looked at Lilian and felt that while 
she had cured him of his fit of love, 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


13 ^ 

she had never seemed so deeply 
interesting as a fellow-creature. 

“My dear,” he said, “you must 
surely see that we should be 
wretched if we married.” 

“ Why ? ” said Lilian, “ it would 
be such a comfort to me to have 
some one I could really trust and 
believe in ; some one who would 
help me to be serious ; to know one 
being at least who was not led away 
by all manner of idle fancies ! ” 

The irony of the situation would 
have been ludicrous if it had not 
been so heart-breaking. 

“ Do not imagine that I am that 
one being,” said Wiche, hastily. 
“God knows I am flimsy enough. 
And I am afraid it is always dis- 
astrous to pin one's faith to a mere 
mortal. Even the best of us are 
miserably imperfect as rocks of 
defence ; you see we are flesh-and- 
blood, we are not granite. ” 


132 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


Treat me as though I had a 
mind, Sidney,” she said, and I 
will follow you to the ends of the 
earth ! ” 

do not think,” he stammered, 
''we could ever be happy to- 
gether. ” 

" You mean,” said Lady Mallin- 
ger, "that you do not care for me 
in the way you thought.” 

"I will always be your friend,” 

he said, firmly, " but ” Her 

sense of what was just and meet 
told her that it only remained now 
to call her soul into her eyes, gaze 
mournfully at Wiche, and leave him. 
Saville after all loved her the best. 

Women like Lady Mallinger have 
to die young in order to be under- 
stood : then — and then not always 
— some onlooker more discerning 
than the others will see in the cold 
body some trace of a fiery spirit too 
ardent and too restless for mortality. 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


133 


Alas ! poor soul. Seeking the high- 
est, best, most beautiful, and purest 
— and finding a Saville Rookes. 

The modern is always an unwill- 
ing slave to sentiment : if he find 
himself captivated by a romantic 
love or a sublime ideal he accepts 
his state in the shamefaced and 
hopeless certainty that his common- 
sense will one day come to the 
rescue. He cannot believe that 
what he takes for beauty will always 
be so fair, or that what seems good 
for the moment could be inspiring 
forever. Satisfaction only makes 
him restless : he sighs for happiness 
and, having found it, sighs lest, 
after all, it should only be a shadow 
cast by his own desires. Wiche 
therefore suffered his disappoint- 
ment with smiling patience and with 
something even of relief ; once he 
had doubted that all was vanity, 
had suspected that life yet held 


134 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


much that was precious and desir- 
able, that love was an immortal 
fact, and endured. He felt now that 
he need struggle no longer against 
despair, and, abandoning himself to 
the intense pleasures of profound 
melancholy, became agreeably tired 
of existence. To his unspeakable 
resentment, however, one shining 
thought pierced the blackness of his 
thoughts. Teresa still remained. 
But she had never been his ideal. 
Teresa was Teresa — a vivid, distinct 
personality, a being whom no 
amount of romantic disguise could 
make seem other than she was, and 
who was incomparable, not because 
of her singular merits, but because 
no one else had the same faults. 




VIII. 

IR VENTRY COXE had been 
educated in the belief that 
his cousin Teresa loved him 
madly. When he married 
Lady Susan Hoppe-Gardner, a 
chorus went up from all the mem- 
bers of his family. “What on 
earth will poor Teresa do ? She 
was present at the wedding, never- 
theless, and seemed in the best 
possible spirits : the relations looked 
wise and murmured that it was 
impossible for the unhappy girl 
to deceive them, Ventry was 
particularly kind to her; he clasp- 
ed her hand warmly when he 
started on his honeymoon and 

135 



A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


thanked her again and again with 
tears in his eyes for her magnificent 
gift in the shape of a diamond neck- 
lace for his bride : every one said it 
was too touching for words, several 
ladies declared that Teresa grew as 
white as a sheet and would have 
swooned if Lord Twacorbie, with 
his ready tact, had not led her to the 
air. 

A few years passed ; Miss Warcop 
refused all offers ; Lady Susan died. 
This, all the relations said, was 
Fate. Sir Ventry, remembering 
Teresa’s rent-roll, thought so too. 
He decided to make her his wife 
when a decent period of mourning 
had elapsed ; there was no hurry, 
she was there, ready, waiting, and 
willing, when he wanted her. 

The day at last dawned when it 
seemed convenient to address her 
on the subject : he met her in the 
hall as she left the drawing-room 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


137 


after her scene with Lady Mallinger. 
She was greatly embarrassed, a fact 
which he easily attributed to her 
sudden encounter with himself. 
Smiling magnanimously, he waited 
until she had regained her com- 
posure. 

‘^Shallwego into the garden.?’’ 
he suggested. 

No, she was feeling rather tired ; 
she had a slight headache ; he would 
find her a very dull companion. 

''Do come,” he said, in his most 
persuasive manner. 

Teresa, who was always amused 
at his conceit, and who had a moth- 
erly, pitying affection for the weak- 
nesses which did duty for his char- 
acter, yielded the point and followed 
him. He began to talk of formeC 
days : he reminded her of his five- 
and-twentieth birthday, when she 
gave him a hunter and wore a black 
cloak lined with scarlet. 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


138 


You look awfully well in scar- 
let/’ he observed. She blushed: 
scarlet was Wiche’s favorite color. 
Sir Ventry, however, took the blush 
to himself. 

‘'I always admired you, you 
know,” he said; ''there is not a 
woman in the family who has got 
such a complexion, and your eye- 
lashes are so long.” 

"It is very nice of you to say so, ” 
said Teresa: "I, myself, do not 
think they are bad. Once or twice 
I have thought I looked quite de- 
cent ! ” 

He glanced at her sideways. Was 
she really so plain as all the women 
made out.? 

"I am awfully fond of you,” he 
said suddenly. 

Teresa was by no means dense. 

My dear Ventry,” she said, with 
rather a nipping air, " let us talk 
like reasonable beings.” 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


139 


am quite serious,” he replied. 
‘‘Will you marry me, Teresa.?” 

“Certainly not. You must be 
mad.” 

“What!” 

“You must be mad. And think 
yourself very lucky that I forgive 
you for making such an insulting 
suggestion. ” Trembling with anger 
she left him. He looked up to see 
whether the Heavens were falling. 




IX. 

ERESA sat alone in the draw- 
ing-room before dinner that 
evening. The lamps were 
lit and their hazy light fell 
on the orange velvet draperies, the 
vases of blue Sevres, the Chinese em- 
broideries on scarlet satin, the cop- 
per bowls, the tiger skins and the 
Indian shawls. Teresa loved colour, 
gorgeous sunsets, the blare of trum- 
pets, loud music — all that could 
send some note of the tremendous 
into the undramatic tragedy of her 
existence. To-night she wore a 
gown of silver brocade : lace con- 
cealed her neck, and long sleevea 
140 



A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


141 


her arms, but neither brocade nor 
lace could hide the slight, almost 
angular figure of their wearer. She 
held a book of devotions in her lap, 
the leaves of which she turned at 
random, but her glance fell now on 
the clock, and now on the mirror — 
rarely on the volume and its gro- 
tesque old woodcuts of saints and 
ecstatic virgins. At last the sound 
of footsteps in the corridor without, 
and the opening of a door, marred 
the disquieting repose of her vigil. 
She let fall the book of prayers : 
the little crash it made on striking 
the floor and the rustle of her silk 
petticoat drowned the words of 
greeting which she addressed to 
Wiche, who now entered. 

He chose a chair near hers, but 
she, half-unconsciously, shrank back. 
He was too engrossed in his own 
thoughts, however, to notice the 
movement. 


142 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


fear I seemed most ungrate- 
ful this afternoon/' he said, ‘‘but I 
felt quite sure that you would one 
day understand Lady Mallinger, 
and know, as I do, the real woman. 
Perhaps I should say the real child. " 

“When I spoke," said Teresa, in 
a low voice, “I did not know that 
you loved her. And she has 
charmed away my prejudice since 
then. I will frankly admit that I 
did not wish to discover anything 
bewitching either in her face or in 
her manner. I only wanted to 
have the right to detest her with a 
clear conscience ! " 

“Yet, in spite of all this, she con- 
quered you ? " 

“She conquered me," repeated 
Teresa, “but let me say one thing 
— she is too romantic : she lives by 
moonlight." 

Wiche laughed. “She has seen 
a great deal of the world," he said, 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


‘'and I have often been struck by 
her extraordinary, almost, terrible 
common-sense. She may have a 
certain amount of sentimentalism in 
her brain, but at heart she is cold 
and critical. This ache to be 
amused, this longing to hear music 
in the air, to see beauty on all sides, 
to find life one ever-new, yet ever- 
abiding pleasure, these are the fierce, 
never-gratified desires of those who 
love only themselves. But to him 
who loves others — even one other '' 
— he found himself looking into 
Teresa's eyes — “even one other — 
the commonest things seem rare, 
the blackest shadows have a radi- 
ance indescribable, and the harshest 
notes are heavenly melodies : dis- 
appointment, bitterness, and deso- 
lation have no part in his exist- 
ence ! ” 

“These exalted moods are brief — 
terribly brief," said Teresa, “and 


144 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


they show us just enough of our 
lost divinity to make us ever more 
wretched as mere mortals and chil- 
dren of Adam. It is the day after, 
the days after, the weeks, months, 
years after, when we can only re- 
member that once we were happy for 
half-an-hour ! '' She seemed to have 
forgotten Wiche's presence, and he 
felf that she was thinking of some- 
thing in her own experience in which 
he bore no part. It was certain that 
she could have no knowledge of his 
love-adventure with Lady Mallinger, 
and he could not make up his mind 
to tell her the news just then. 

‘^I wonder, he said, abruptly, 
‘‘I have often wondered why you 
are the only one in the world I can 
talk to without the dread of saying 
either more or less than I mean.*' 

'^I will tell you why," she an- 
swered : ‘'I could never misunder- 
stand you, Sidney, because I love 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


145 


you.'' Although she was a woman 
in whom the coquette was, at all 
events, slumbering, her primmest, 
least emotional manner had the 
mysterious charm of those things 
which we note unmoved and re- 
member with passionate interest. 
She made her declaration of love so 
quietly that Wiche saw neither its 
oddness, nor, indeed, its full mean- 
ing : he colored a little, however, 
at the sense her words might have 
conveyed. 

‘‘Do not think I am choosing 
phrases at random,'' she went on, 
“ I meant what I said. There is only 
one thing in my life which I can be 
grateful for — that is my love for 
yourself. Many people would think 
it very unwomanly on my part to 
tell you this ; I am only proud to 
know that I am capable of loving 
any one. All affection seems to 

have been laughed out of the 
10 


146 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


world : when it is not ridiculous, it 
is thought hysterical. To me it re- 
mains and always must remain, the 
greatest — the only perfect gift — that 
God has giA^en us. So I have told 
you.'’ Her lips trembled a little as 
she added, “I suppose, too, you 
have heard it already from Lady 
Mallinger ? ” 

“ What could I hear from Lady 
Mallinger," he asked, growing more 
and more bewildered. Teresa's ex- 
pression was so frigid though her 
words were so kind. I am sure 
we are talking at cross-purposes. " 

‘^Do you mean to say," she 
stammered, ''that she neA^er told 
you all — all I said to her this after- 
noon ? " 

"She has never uttered your 
name. " 

Teresa hid her face in her hands 
and forced back her tears. She had 
needlessly betrayed her secret. 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


H7 

I will explain/^ she said, at 
last. ‘‘ Lady Mallinger told me this 
afternoon that she was going to 
marry you : we had some words and 
I — I confessed quite plainly what 
I — I said just now. And I thought 
she would surely repeat it — so — in 
order to avoid any misapprehension 
— I decided to let you hear it from 
me also. It needed courage, but 
now all my courage has gone — I 
had only enough for that. It 
wanted so much. Do not say a 
word ; please go. 

Lady Mallinger is not going to 
marry me,'' he said, quietly. 

He touched Teresa’s hand, and 
conquered his impulse to kiss it : 
that was not the moment, nor in- 
deed could he imagine a time when 
it might be the moment. She 
seemed to stand in an enchanted 
circle. Suddenly, he saw that she 
was crying. This touch of weak- 


148 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


ness seemed to supply the one 
thing he had always missed in her 
character. Teresa had, as a rule, a 
self-command which was almost 
forbidding — even her occasional 
indiscretions had something well- 
considered and reasonable. She 
lacked that inconsequence, that 
capriciousness, that delicious non- 
sense which most men and all 
strong natures find so alluring and 
adorable. To see her weeping, 
therefore, was to behold a new 
creature. Wiche was uncertain how 
to reply, when she herself, brushing 
the tears from her cheeks, asked 
him a question. 

Why } she said, why are you 
not going to marry Lady Mallinger V 
"‘I want to tell you about that,'’ 
he said. ‘ ‘ I am afraid that there is 
not time to tell the whole story 
now. But Lady Mallinger dis- 
covered that she had made a mis- 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


149 


take, she loved some one else, and 
I — I have been such a fool, Teresa, 
such a fool ! I do not know whether 
I love you or not. I only know 
that I hate my life when you are 
not near me ! '' This truth, which 
had been sleeping so long, woke at 
the first whisper of its name : he 
realized how pitiably little would 
remain to him if Teresa were taken 
from his memory : it was her very 
oneness with his own mind which 
had made him overlook her : when 
he imagined he was thinking of him- 
self he was thinking of Teresa also. 

‘‘I only know,'*' he said once 
more, “that I hate my life when 
you are not near me ! ” 

She could have wished that he 
had expressed himself with less ego- 
ism ; if he cared for her at all it was 
because she was necessary to his 
peace of soul : at least, so it 
sounded. But she was a woman 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


150 

who found her happiness in giving 
and loving : she made no demands ; 
she looked neither for gratitude, nor 
homage, nor appreciation ; she only- 
asked the right to give and to love. 
So she gave Wiche her hand ; her 
heart had been his from the begin- 
ning. 

Without you,” she said, I have 
no life to hate ! ” 

This may have been weak, but 
Teresa was not strong-minded. 
And perhaps it is as well for those 
of us who are proud and self-reliant 
that just such simple, undignified, 
and affectionate creatures are to be 
found here and there. They may 
speak for us on Judgment Day, 
which will be the longest, darkest, 
and coldest, this world has seen. 




X, 

WHICH CONTAINS A LETTER WRITTEN 
THE SAME EVENING BY LADY TWA- 
CORBIE TO HER HUSBAND. 

Arden Lodge, 

‘‘ Near Wensley, 

Hertford. 

'^My dear Harold, — I am so 
annoyed and disgusted that I can 
scarcely hold my pen. Wiche has 
proposed to Teresa, and has been 
accepted. What could be more 
outrageous than such conduct } As 
for Teresa, you know I always 
thought her dreadfully sly. How 
any woman could prefer Wiche to 
Ventry ! But there, what on earth 

151 


152 


A BUNDLE OF LIFE. 


does Wiche see in Teresa? Van 
Huyster told me in the course of 
conversation at dinner that he is 
engaged to some American person 
in Paris, and that he hopes to per- 
suade her to marry him on the 
Fourth of July . We must really be 
more careful in future about whom 
we invite to the house. Lilian and 
Rookes are flirting in the most un- 
expected manner. I thought they 
could not hear each other. Nothing 
however, would astonish me in that 
direction after the surprises of this 
day. I believe that I am the only 
sane person in the house. Thank 
goodness, they all go to-morrow. 
I long for rest. Felicia seems hys- 
terical ; I never knew a girl of 
seventeen with so many nerves. 
She must go on with that steel tonic 
and take fencing lessons. 

‘‘Your affectionate wife. 


“Charlotte Twacorbie. 


A BUNDLE OE LIFE. 


53 


P.S. — Spalding has just been in 
to say that he and Danby wish to 
get married this day month ! What 
could be more tiresome } I begged 
him to reconsider it, but he said it 
was too late. He had made up his 
mind. 

''P.S. No. 2. — Ven try has given 
me to understand that he proposed 
to Teresa this afternoon, and that 
she seemed quite annoyed. He is 
furious, and blames ME. I dare 
not tell him about Wiche/' 




TO 

WALTER SPINDLER. 

Ah, not for me — to learn the truth by 
dreaming, 

To hear the cries of earth in melody. 

To know ’tis night but when the stars are 
gleaming, — 

Ah, not for me. 

Music of form and colour’s mystery. 

The joy of fashioning in fairest seeming 

Life’s dullest clay and Winters barest tree; 

To count the years as moments — only 
deeming 

That truly Time which makes thy Art to 
thee 

The one thing needful and the all-redeem- 
ing,— 

Ah, not for me ! 

September 23, 1893. 


155 


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EPILOGUE. 

Spoken by a Daughter of Eve, who is weeping, 
and an Angel, who looks otct of fashion. 

The Angel. 

This is only Sorrow 
For To-Day. 

Life begins To-Morrow ! 

A Daughter of Eve. 

So they say. 

The Angel. 

Life with love and laughter 
Gay and free — 

Yet no heartache after. 

A Daughter of Eve. 

Can it be ? 

The Angel. 

Life with work that reaches 
To the sky ; 


157 


158 


EPILOGUE. 


Life that never teaches 
ilow to die. 

Life that is eternal, 

Ever young, 

Ever bright and vernal 
Just begun ! 

A Daughter of Eve. 

Will To-Morrow ever dawn ? 
Shall we wake that golden morn 
But to see 

All the treasures gained by tears. 
All the faith that’s won by fears- 
V anity ? 


The Angel. 

Doubter, look behind thee 
In the past. 

All the dreams that pleased thee 
Did one last ? 

Is a wish remaining 
Erom thy youth ? 

This thou art retaining 
If ’twas truth. 

Mortal passions sicken, 

Eade away — 

Love alone can quicken 
Earthly clay. 

Faith, and all endeavour 
That is pure, 

Hope, and Love, for ever 
These endure. 


EPILOGUE. 


159 


All things else are folly 
To the wise, — 

Quit thy melancholy 
And thy sighs I 


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